


Harry Potter and the Lost Legends

by airshipper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 11:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airshipper/pseuds/airshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin find themselves suddenly and inexplicably thrown into the far future. They must work with forces they'd never even dreamed of to find their way home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Death looks like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They were hurt when we first went in,” Harry said after a moment “He was unconscious and very confused about everything when he came downstairs. He didn’t know where he was.”  
> [Edited and re-uploaded]

  


Arthur knelt on the muddy ground, panting. Merlin lay sprawled in front of him, very unconscious, but breathing. He heard the trees creak and the ground shiver as the monster ambled closer. Nothing he did hurt it, no amount of sword or arrow or fire.

Merlin had fallen into him, rather luckily for Arthur, just as the beast was about to claw him. He knocked them both backwards, but not enough that Merlin himself didn’t get snatched and thrown like a rag doll into the woods. Arthur ran after him, and now, crouching over his stupidly clumsy manservant, he gathered Merlin up and weighed his chances of fleeing with the both of them.

Then the monster was there, huge and unstoppable. Closer and closer it stepped until Arthur could feel the tremors in his very bones and he looked up, craning his neck to see it. His bones were vibrating and the air was humming. He held Merlin tightly, some pathetic form of comfort as he stared death straight on.

And then, there was no monster.

Arthur, still clutching Merlin like a lifeline, looked around. A wooden and stone building, many tables, and a bar. It looked like a tavern.

Just

Suddenly,

A tavern.

He loosened his hold on Merlin and placed his hand on the sword at his hip. There were a few tenants, but they were absorbed in their own drinks. He blinked, judged them safe for the moment, and examined Merlin. He looked up and around constantly, and one hand never strayed far from his dagger. A quick sweep of the area told Arthur the tenants there didn’t even seem to have even acknowledged their sudden entrance.

A man behind a counter looked over at them distantly and without a welcome. He put down a dirty glass he'd been wiping with a dirty rag.

"You gonna buy somethin'?"

"...We are bleeding. He's unconscious. Perhaps later." Arthur said with more than a little sarcasm. The man made a face full of distaste and went back to the dirty cup and rag. No one else seemed to care much.

He didn’t seem very impressed with his money when Arthur tried to buy a room for the night, and only took it because it's gold.  Arthur scooped Merlin up and made it to the stairs when the door swung open. He switched Merlin from arms to shoulder and put his hand on his hilt in case of an attack.

Several younger people came in and slid into a table at the corner. He watched them, tense, and they didn't seem to notice him either. Then Merlin (the _oaf_ ) groans so loudly the entire pub looks over.

 "Arthur, what happened? I feel like I was hit with an ox, plus cart..."

"Shut. Up." he said.

"Why do I have such a view of your behind?"

"Merlin!" he hissed. "For once in your sad, dimwitted life—!" He backed up the stairs, watching the room in a highly suspicious manner.

Merlin kicked his legs in frustration. "You look like you're abducting me, you prat! Let go!"

One of the children laughs. "Did he just call him _Merlin_?"

Arthur turned his gaze on them. He just  got the response that " _His_ mum was rather hopeful."

"She could have been muggleborn," a girl whispered rather scoldingly.

Arthur backed the rest of the way upstairs and located their room.

  


Hermione said they should do something. The other two weren't sure what, and more students started to arrive.

"He really did look like he was being abducted." Ron admitted.

Ginny sat down, looking curiously at them. "What are you talking about? Has something happened?"

"Someone's been hurt," Harry whispers. "They've gone upstairs."

"Oh!" Ginny said. "Well, I could offer this. I have it for Umbridge's awful punishments." She digs in her bags and pulls out a clear jar full of something thick.

Harry leaned forward, looking at it curiously. "What is it?"

"It's a sort of healing balm. Madam Pomfrey made it up."

A slow nod. "Alright. How about I take it up? And you lot can greet everyone as they arrive."

"Harry, they're all here for you..."

"...Oh. Right. Um." He looked nervous again and Hermione started to reassure him.

Ginny gave Ron the jar and told him to take it.

"You take it!"

"Michael is going to be here soon!"

"Then definitely take it! I want to talk to that bloke."

"Ron, get out of my sight right now before I hex your hair off."

"Both of you go before you start a scene," Hermione hissed. "Ginny, it's better if there are two of you in case they’re trouble."

Ginny huffed, but they both agreed and scurried upstairs. The bartender watched them with the same distaste he showed everyone. They slipped upstairs as even more people came in. It occurred to them belatedly that they didn’t know which room they wanted.

"Look," Ginny whispered. She gestured to a smeared drop of red on the ground. Ron nodded, and knocked on the door nearest.

There was a scuffle and a loud ‘ _oof_!’ followed by one of the voices saying "I _said_ get the door! You're not that hurt."

"Alright, alright! ...dollophead."

Ron choked on a breath and the door opened. A black haired boy looked at the curiously, smiling a little. He was reminiscent of Ron, in his long lanky limbs.

"Hello? Is there a... problem?"

"Here," Ginny pushed forward and offered the jar. "You looked pretty bad off, so we thought you might appreciate it." Ron nodded.

Merlin grinned at them. "Thank you, my lady!" Ron doubled over laughing and Ginny blushed. (Just a little.)

"Oh. Well, you're welcome. Can I ask what happened?"

Merlin laughed. "Oh, my master and I were just in a bit of trouble, nothing to worry about." The man in the background scoffed.

"Oh. Well, I hope you two are okay. I'm sure someone in town would let you floo to St. Mungo's if you need to." Ginny said. 

"Also," Ron said. "The Three Broomsticks might be a nicer place to stay." He looked down the dank hallway, with peeling wallpaper, everything a sickly white and yellow and brown. Dust floated past the flickering and coughing lamps mounted on the walls.

Merlin grinned at them, and nodded. "Sure thanks. Erm- where's that?"

"Merlin we're not _moving_. We need to figure out where we are."

Merlin glanced at Arthur then back over to the two redheads. "Yes well, do either of you two know where we are? How far from Camelot?"

"Camelot!" Ron and Ginny looked shocked. "You're in Scotland!" Ron said.

"Yes, well, how far?" Arthur said. Merlin glanced back at him and decided he should give Arthur their balm gift.

"Well, it's not really a matter of how far, but" Ron shook his head. "No one's known where the location was for centuries! I mean, come on! Your name is Merlin, but this is ridiculous."

Merlin snickered at Ron’s energy but he looked confused. "I'm not really following."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "You're pretty ridiculous, mate."

Arthur stepped forward. "’Mate’?"

Ron looked over at him, a little nervously. He looked like a mix of Goyle and Malfoy. Prissy and spoiled and far more buff then he ought to be.

Ginny glared and stepped right up to him. "I have given you that but I will take it right back!" Arthur blinked down  at her, but Merlin slipped in between them. 

"I'm thinking we ended up father away that I thought. You sound a bit, well, odd to me. Perhaps I'm saying something that means differently to you." He looked sheepish."Sorry!” he added. Ginny looked at him huffily, obviously wanting to go after Arthur.

"Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to... offend..." Ron coughed, really not sure what he could possibly have said.

Arthur scoffed in a very superior sort of way. "Merlin, just make yourself useful for once and go down and see if this place serves food." He looked down at the jar, saying a little softer, "May we still use this?"

Ginny nods after a moment, then turns and walks away.

"Food here's gross," Ron warned, and turned. Merlin slipped out, closed the door and followed.

The three of them went down the narrow stairs together. It was far more crowded now. The group in the corner was noticeable and loud. Ron and Ginny looked at each other, suddenly nervous.

Merlin looked over curious, but went over to the bar to ask about food as ordered. The man grumbled that he wouldn't be taking any more of that nasty fake money if he was expecting anything.

"Erm well... I think we're foreign to here. We don't know your currency. Is there any-"

"Don't know the currency, what rubbish is that? It's all the same!"

Some of the kids glanced over as Merlin huffed.

"Could I... work for some food? We only really need one meal, I can do without."

The man looked surprised at the suggestion and, after a moment, nodded.

"Fine. What do you want?"

"A meal of whatever meat you have on the fire, bread and wine." Merlin asked.

"...Fine."

Merlin beamed at him. "What do you need done my good man?"

 He was eyed up and down. "What can ya do well? Any use?"

"I'm very good at scrubbing floors. Polishing things. Cleaning up after people. I could..... deal with any roughs you have bothering your establishment?" He added the last one jokingly, but he was met with a complete lack of amusement.

"I can use magic for all that, boy. Try again."

Merlin's face dropped, he blinked, then laughed. "Oh- well then! Best not tell my master then, we're from Camelot."

The man raised a single eyebrow. "Camelot's been gone for centuries." he said. "What can you do?"

"...cook?" Merlin tried, but he was distracted now. Camelot was gone? How could it be gone? The idea was chilling.

"Don't tell my master that either," he said as an afterthought.

The man looks impatient and unamused. "Cooking then. That'll do, should anyone order a meal."

"Well... I have. I can wait tables, I suppose too. You don't use magic for that, I hope?"

He shook his head. "Go wait tables, then. And cook what they ask for."

The man put down his dirty rag and cup and walked into the back, presumably to cook Arthur's meal. Merlin glanced around nervously, and then magicked the cloth and cup clean. He ran upstairs but he was back quickly after to make rounds to all the residents.

 He got several (bloody) orders from gnarled sounding women in veils, and then he approached the kids.

"So. You all need anything to eat? Please? I need to work this off."

Hermione had been talking about something, a scroll out on the table, but she'd stopped as he approached. She sat up straighter and smiled a little nervously. "Um... I suppose, yes. I could have some..... lunch. I suppose."

Merlin grinned in a very apologetic way. "I would rather a more specific order, if you could think of one. Otherwise I'll just be making you whatever I find.”

"Oh, uh. Perhaps a watercress sandwich?"

He nodded and looked around at the others. Several headshakes and a few more orders later, he moved on.

Hermione let out a breath and pulled out the paper again.

Ron laughed. "Well that was awkward! You know he's telling people he's from Camelot?"

"It’s not important, Ron! We need to do this."

Merlin headed into the back to start cooking. The bartender was just putting a rather unappetizing plate together. He shoved it into Merlin's hands as he approached.

"Take it up and get to work, boy."

Merlin grinned at the food and brought it upstairs. He gave it to Arthur very quickly and ran back downstairs and vaulted the counter.

For the rest of the evening he was in and out, handing off meals to people and collecting payment. The bartender just stood by the bar, wiping his clean rag on the clean cup.

Hermione was rather impressed by her sandwich. The bartender was a little surprised, later in the day when he saw how clean the kitchen was. Merlin needed it to be to cook, after all. Merlin ran out of things of do pretty quickly and just leaned on the counter, watching things. The group of younger folks in the corner was by far the most interesting.

They seemed upset about something, and secretive. He listened only to keep Arthur safe, though. Speaking of which, he should check on the dolt.

He slipped back upstairs, after checking no one wanted a refill on drinks or anything, and got a wooden plate thrown at his head as he entered the room.

"Hey! What if it wasn't me?!"

"It was you, Merlin. And that was _disgusting_."

"Well that's not my fault, they said it will be! You should be thankful you got anything; I’m going hungry!"

"Go get something better, even if you have to make it yourself!"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, sire." he said. Arthur looked like he was trying to find something else to throw. Merlin ducked out quickly. He went back downstairs, paused, then ran back up.

"Arthur," he stuck his head back in. "Are you done with the salve? I should return it."

Arthur looked down at the jar and nodded. "Did you need any? Were you injured?"

"Nah, I’m fine." Merlin grinned encouragingly, but darted in to take it. "I'll see if I can get you something more, but it'll mean I'm here longer to pay it off!" He ran off again before Arthur could say much.

"Excuse me, my lady?" Merlin crept up to the group, tilting a little to get a look at Ginny through the group. "Forgive me. I have your salve?" He offered it up.

Ginny blinked as everyone went quiet. She got a couple funny looks and her ears turned red. The boy next to her frowned at Merlin and grabbed Ginny’s freckled hand in his brown one.

"...Thank you. I hope you are both alright?"

Merlin grinned and nodded. "Yes, thank you." She smiled awkwardly back. Michael switched hands and pointedly slung an arm around her. Merlin didn't even seem to notice. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.

"If there is ever a favor you need, please just tell me and I will repay the debt."

"No... you don't have to......"

He shook his head. "No really, I mean it." He bowed to the group and walked back behind the bar. Ginny looked down at the jar skeptically.

"Well," she said. Ron, and several of the other boys, snorted and snickered. Hermione said that she thought that was very thoughtful.

Merlin made another meal up for Arthur and brought it upstairs. He poured also a glass of... well, something in a bottle. It smoked briefly in the cup and then lay still. Merlin gave it a nervous sniff, but it smelled properly like liquor. He even cast a quick spell on it. It was not poisoned. He thought briefly of diluting it, but the water ran sort of orange and smelled like blood and copper.

Finally, he brought the meal up to Arthur. Arthur took it, much more pleased. "Yes, finally something edible. Thank you, Merlin. Now-"

"I have to go work off your two dinners, sire. I'll be back later."

Merlin ran out before Arthur could give him any _more_ to do. When he got downstairs, all of the kids were going over and signing the scroll. He glanced over at them. He felt magic in the air, like they were consenting to a pact of some sort. It made him nervous, though they all seemed in excellent cheer. He shook the thought out of his head and finished up the last meals. He tidied up the kitchen with a quick wave and a mutter, and then left to the bartender. 

"Thank you," he bowed.

The bartender nodded, and said if he was expecting more than a night's sleep then he’d be working again in the morning. Merlin laughed a little awkwardly but nodded and promised to consult his master on the subject.

He didn't really feel like actually going upstairs to the royal pain quite yet though, so he decided to wander over to the kids again. They all looked over at him. One blond young man in yellow and black turned on him. "And what exactly is your reason for coming over here so often?"

Merlin smiled, just a touch nervous. "Sorry, my lord. Didn't mean anything."

"And why on _earth_ are you talking like that!"

"Uh, like what, my lord?"

"Like that!" the other boy insisted. "And you're changing the subject. We're having a private meeting."

The others were just looking back and forth between them. Zachariah was snappish and annoying, but the stranger’s presence was nerve wracking to a clandestine meeting.

Merlin bowed his head. "I apologize my lord, you just seemed young to me, to be... having private meetings and the like. I can leave you be."

"You better!" The boy all but snarled, pointing a rather short stick at him and waving it.

"Stop it! He's done nothing wrong!" Ginny snapped. 

A snort. "You just like him 'cause he's flirting with you."

Merlin laughed, eyeing the stick like it was the most hilarious thing he'd ever seen. "Sorry, but... what is that going to do to me?"

" _Hex_ you if I have anything to say about it!" Merlin blinked.

"Oh. Well!"

"Smith!" George said threateningly. He waved a small metal... thing, rather threateningly. "Seat yourself. We've had enough from you."

Merlin looked over at him, then backed away muttering about needing to check on his master. He skirted off upstairs again.

Hermione frowned, watching him go worriedly. "He didn't really seem to know what a wand was, did he...."

Ron laughed. "Just sounded a little cocky to me. He thinks we're kids."

"Noooo.... I don't think that's it. He addresses us like a house elf...."

Ron snorted. "No he doesn’t." Hermione just hummed in response.

"The ... meeting is over now, so." Harry said, standing. "Leave in small groups. And. Yeah, that's all."

They started to disperse. Hermione insisted that they go check on the poor man upstairs.

"Are you alright?" she asked, once they had arrived at the visitors’ door.

Merlin looked up at her and smiled sweetly. He slipped outside the room and closed the door. "Yes, my lady! He's a bit of a prat, isn't he?"

Hermione smiled apologetically. "A bit, yes.... Um, may I ask-"

"You're not secretly an _elf_ , are you?" Ron interrupted, a little pointedly, a little mockingly. "I only ask because Hermione thinks you talk like one."

Merlin blinked at him and laughed rather heartily. "What? No, I'm human, my lord. What do elves talk like?"

Ron raised a brow at Hermione. She gave him a dirty look. “Well, sort of kowtow, you know? Like everyone else is more important."

" _Oh_. I thought you were nobility is all." Merlin said. He looked them up and down. "You seem...well cared for." He waved an arm towards the stairs. “We should go sit.”

Ron looked confused. Hermione looked like she wanted to make sure Merlin was well care for.

"We...aren't. We're students." He said,  walking with Merlin and his friends to their newly empty table.

"Students? What is your apprenticeship, if you don’t mind me asking?" Merlin said amicably. Ron gave him an odd look. Harry laughed, looking confused.

"Well... Magic I suppose."

Merlin's face fell, and he glanced at the stairs. "Really now. Try not to mention that to my master. He's not fond of magic."

"What?" Ron sounded outright skeptical now.

Hermione cut him off. "What do you mean _master_?"

"I'm his manservant. He _is_ nobility." Merlin said, grinning. "And, well," he was whispering now. “He was brought up to fear it."

"Really?" Harry said.

" _Really_?" from Ron. Merlin laughed again.

 "Yes well, no one seems to believe me when I say we're from Camelot."

Hermione paid this line of conversation no mind, she was frowning worriedly. "Do you get... _paid_ for being a manservant?"

Merlin blinked at her. "Well yes, a little, and _usually_ room and board. I don't need much though, I get by."

She hummed. "I'm just worried for you." she said. Merlin blushed. 

"You're too kind. Please don't worry my- miss. I'm fine! I like working for the idiot. Mostly."

"Yeah, Hermione, I don't think he's house-elvish." Ron was amused by the insulting of the large Goyle-Malfoy upstairs. Merlin laughed and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted before the words could leave his mouth.

"Meeeeeeeerrrrlllimnnnnnnnnnnn theeeeere you are where have you been???" There was a thump, and Arthur slammed heavily into the side of the doorjamb at the base of the staircase, looking... very out of it.

Merlin blinked. "Arthur. You're… drunk."

Arthur all but flopped on him. "No I’m not! I hardly had a full glassssss of whatever you mave ge."

Merlin cackled, grabbing Arthur’s arm and bracing himself on the wall. Arthur demanded to know what was so funny.

“How did you even manage it?” Merlin said. “I didn’t even give you the bottle. It was only a glass!”

“A glass of what exactly? They have some pretty strong stuff round here. The warlocks like them.”

Arthur reeled back in drunken alarm. “Warlocks?! Where?!” he fumbled, and drew his sword.

“Arthur! Arthur, you’re drunk, you misheard.” Merlin soothed. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

Arthur glared, a little cross-eyed, at the implication. “Merliiin,” he glared and Merlin made a face because he could tell what was coming. “Shaddup.”

Merlin sighed. “No, sire, you did mishear them. Go upstairs and sleep it off or something.”

Arthur rolled his eyes in a very loose and exaggerated way. “Whatever. Yeah. Upstairs.” He wandered until Merlin pointed him in the right direction. Then he rounded on the trio.

“Do you _want_ to die?” He looks and sounds so exasperated they draw back startled.

“Oi!” Ron said angrily.

Merlin paid him no heed. “I just told you he’s not good with magic! He’ll have your heads if you talk about it like that again.”

“But you have magic, don’t you?” Merlin glanced at the stairs uneasily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But don’t suggest _anything_ about magic near him. Please.”

Hermione looked concerned again, but so did the other two. “But this village is entirely magic.”

“…Bollocks.” He’d gone a little pale, and looked tired and twitchy all of a sudden. “And… no idea where Camelot is, right?”

“It really doesn’t exist anymore.” Ron informed him with a fair amount of exasperation.

“No, of course not. That would be ridiculous.” Merlin muttered. “Fine. Okay. I’ll do without!” He paced, thinking hard about his duties to Arthur and his destiny. “Would you, uh, mind much telling me about the area?” He looked pitiful, pulling a face like he was awaiting the death sentence with their words.

“If he’s abusing you, you shouldn’t have to serve him any longer!” Hermione insisted instead. “Quit! There are plenty of jobs in town.”

Merlin laughed dryly, smiling again. “What? No. Well, doesn’t your master abuse you all sometimes? You’re apprentices; they can’t be that good to you. You just get used to that sort of thing right?”

Ron hummed grumpily, thinking of Snape. Harry’s expression was foul, thinking of Umbridge. Hermione looked horrified and insisted that ”No! None of their teachers are brandishing _swords_ at them!”

Merlin snorts. “Well, you’re quite lucky! My first day, he used me as a practice dummy.”

Ron laughed then felt rather bad. Merlin was still grinning. Hermione glared reproachfully at Ron. “It’s not right! Tell him Harry, come on!”

“Well, it’s not, and you shouldn’t do what he says if he’s being such a prat to you.”

“Well, he may be a prat, but he’s a good man. I’d lay down my life for him.” He coughed, “But actually, I’d really like some information on the town.”

“It’s called Hogsmeade.” Herminie said grumpily. “It’s in Scotland, but otherwise unplottable. Everyone here is some being or another of magic, and it’s obvious.”

“That’s incredible.” Merlin said. “And there are no laws against it, or anything?” _Oh, maybe he’ll just accept that._ He looked a little worried still, smile nervous, but he seemed to be relaxing. “He understands there are places not our own, with different views.” Merlin explained. Then his smile widened into a grin again. “Thanks so much. He probably won’t trust you though, since you’re sorcerers.”

“Rude.” Ron muttered.

“Oh, very,” Merlin said and went back upstairs. “Thank you again! And my thanks to the fiery Lady, too.”

He ran upstairs. Ron laughed, but then frowned. “That was bloody weird. How’d they even get here if he can’t have any magic?”

“I don’t know, but the poor thing! We need to help him. Maybe we should tell Professor Dumbledore?” Casually, without their notice, the hag behind the veil in the corner stood and walked out of the pub. Harry and Ron nodded and after a moment, they left. Hermione was already plotting when they could ask the headmaster.

Upstairs, Merlin sat to wait in until Arthur was awake and not snoring. Actually going to sleep sounded nice right now. Going to sleep sounded so good that Merlin barely pulled the top layer of clothing off and fell into bed before he was fast asleep.

Merlin didn’t wake up until halfway through the night, when Arthur freaked out and flailed around the room with the sword because he remembered what he heard about warlocks. At that point, Merlin had to explain tiredly to a, luckily, much more sober Arthur that this whole town had no laws against magic. It was like a safe haven.

When they got back to the castle, Harry suggested they go to try Dumbledore’s office right then. Hermione looked delighted at the suggestion, and lead the way. They came to the gargoyle, and looked at each other.

“Should we just start guessing?" Harry asked.

Ron looked skeptically at him, but nodded. “Yeah… It was Muggle candy, right?”

“Any, actually.”

Hermione nodded, looking determined. “Sugar dots, Peppermint canes, Chocolate frogs…”

“Lemon drops. Honey sticks?”

“Mars bars. Bertie Bott’s Every flavor Beans.” They took turns naming anything they could think of until it opened to a desperate “Jelly bellies?”

Dumbledore welcomed them easily when they knocked on his office door. “And what is it you need?”

“There’s a boy in the village, in Hogsmeade,” Hermione began. “He’s only our age, I think, but he works for someone who has him so scared of magic and it’s awful!” Dumbledore actually seemed quite surprised. He was obviously expecting nothing of the sort. “He’s got a sword, Professor! And it sounds like he does awful things to him, too. He’s obviously a wizard, but he hasn’t even got a wand because this man is so oppressive he just pretends he can’t use magic!”

The headmaster looked very curious indeed. “Are you sure? Where in Hogsmeade is he? It will be checked on immediately.”

“The Hogs Head pub!” Hermione said. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Dumbledore nodded. “Is there anything more about the situation you should tell me?”

“Only that the poor thing calls that man his master!” Hermione informed him passionately.

Ron coughs back a laugh and said “And he keeps insisting he’s from Camelot or something.”

“They were hurt when we first went in,” Harry said after a moment “He was unconscious and very confused about everything when he came downstairs. He didn’t know where he was.”

Hermione nodded vigorously. “He gets frightened when we talk of magic. He thought that man would kill _us_!”

Dumbledore frowned. “That is very odd,” He nodded to them. “Thank you for telling me. You should go back to dinner now.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but Ron and Harry thought it best to leave things there. They pulled her out with a last thank you of their own.

Dumbledore decided wasting time would be foolish in this situation, and set out to inform Minerva that he would be attending to some business in town.

  



	2. A crack in the wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin laughed in delight, grinning at the show of magic. He was never going to tell Arthur where the kitchens were, but he was already becoming well aware of how much he would love living in such a magical place. [Edited and re-uploaded]

Dumbledore went right down to the pub in question, though it was quite late now. He talked briefly with the man behind the counter, who waved him upstairs.

Merlin groaned at the knock on the door. Arthur was up now, looking tense and fuming at the knowledge that the very pub he was in was probably owned by a sorcerer. “Merlin- Don’t get the door.”

He was, of course, looked at in complete exasperation. “I can’t _not_ get the door, it could be the innkeeper! We’re not exactly paying normally here, sire, he’s using my labor!”

“What if he bewitches you?”

Merlin shook his head and went to the door. “Oh, uh, good day, my lord.” He bowed to the stately, tall, (but very kind) looking old man. “Do you need something?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Good day, young man. I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Would you humor an old man?”

Merlin opened his mouth, not exactly looking against it, but he glanced questioningly at Arthur. Arthur glared suspiciously from his pace on the bed. “Be careful with this one Merlin. Don’t leave my sight.”

Merlin looked at the man, then back at Arthur. “Can I invite him in and give him a seat then? He shouldn’t be kept standing.”

“…Yes. Over there.” Arthur waved at the little round table at one side of the dim room.

“Actually, I’d like to talk to you downstairs for a few minutes. Away from your employer, if he would allow it.”

Arthur’s eyes narrowed icily, positive he was up to something. Sure, there was no plausible reason anyone would want Merlin, but he’s got to take care of the guy. Arthur was practically responsible for him.

Merlin smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I doubt that’s possible right now, my lord. As you have heard, I am not to leave my ‘employer’s’ sight.” Merlin stumbled over the word. Arthur nodded his agreement.in the background.

“Alright, I shall talk with you in here, if you would.” Merlin smiled and backed up to let the old man through, then sat him down with a cushion.

Dumbledore first introduced himself, then told Merlin that he could speak freely. “I’ve put a little charm around us. The young man over there will only hear boring, mundane discussion.”

Merlin blinked at him, then ogled for a second. Then he grinned. “Really? Can you teach me that? It’d be so useful, you have no idea.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Perhaps, but please, what is your name, my boy?”

“Merlin. What exactly do you need of me?”

“Merlin? It’s nice to meet you. My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” He smiled widely at the amazed look Merlin gave him for all his names. “I want to make sure that you are okay.”

Merlin was still ginning in amazement. “That I’m okay? Why? I’m fine! Fit as could be. Did something happen I should know about?”

“Some students at the school came to me,” Dumbledore explained. “They were very worried for your safety.”

Merlin faltered. “Oh! Oh. Yeah, but I explained the town to him. He’ll obey your laws and won’t bother anyone.”

“And you, Merlin? Will he bother you?”

“Er…” He thought about it for less than a moment, not bothering to stop grinning. “Probably, yeah. But I don’t mind. He’s just like that.”

“But what about your magic, dear boy? How will you learn to control it?”

Merlin glanced at Arthur, but the prince actually looked so bored with their conversation, he’d taken to scratching the floor with the tip of his dagger.

“I, I get by. I have a book. A couple, even.”

Dumbledore stared at him, then chuckled a little sadly. “My dear boy, a couple of books is nothing to the library and teachers practically a jog from this very inn.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, but bit his lip before he could say anything. He swallowed and stared at the table top.

“He’d never step foot in there. I, I can’t."

“Why do you stay? It must be a very important reason.”

Merlin opened his mouth, closed it again and made a face. Then he sighed, smiling wistfully. “Yeah. It’s a really important reason.”

“Not in love, are you?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled.as Merlin almost fell over in his shock at the suggestion. He was laughing too hard to get up for a moment afterwards.

“In – In love? Haha! With that clot pole? Hahahaha oh, you – no, I’m not in love haha oh that was…”

Arthur was giving him a bit of a funny look. It appeared he could still see them. Merlin cleared his throat and righted himself. “No. No, my lord, that isn’t the reason.” He giggled again. Dumbledore merely nodded but Merlin thought he could sense a good deal of amusement.

“Perhaps not. Tell me, Merlin, do you see him as a friend?”

He was grinned at brightly in return. “Yeah, you could say that. A prat of one, but still a friend.” Arthur seemed to have regained interest (though mild) in their conversation from his antics, and was eyeing them boredly again.

“Then I’m sorry to say that his violent reaction to magic, especially in a friend, is a rather large character flaw.”

Merlin stared at the table, but nodded.

“Perhaps he should learn more? Anyone who knows about magic, whether themselves moral or not, realize it is the person, not the magic.”

Merlin made a bit of a face, and shook his head. “He’s just raised that way. Magic is outlawed where we come from, so he’d probably just think you were threatening him if you offer to teach.” He sighed. “We’ve had our fair share of violent and angry sorcerers after his head.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” Dumbledore patted his hand. Arthur grew bored again and started practicing.

“It’s not your fault. It’s hard to explain that we aren’t all like that.  
And even those sorcerers have reasons! They… They…” He shook his head, looking so sad and so old and so very very tired.

Arthur looked over again, looking very confused, slightly concerned. No, that must have been his imagination.

“Merlin, aren’t you done now? How long can you possibly stand chatting about beard trimming?”

Merlin blinked then his lip twitched and he was sniggering. Oh, to know the things Arthur thought he was talking of. It was rather amusing.

“God. You get emotional over the strangest things.” Merlin nearly stuffed his hand in his mouth to contain his laughter, but managed to look over at Arthur.

“A little longer. Be patient!” Arthur glared, which Merlin took to mean he understood.

“Merlin, you cannot hide forever. He must one day learn of your magic, if you insist on staying with him. It would be better if he did not hate it so.”

Merlin sobered pretty much instantly, shoulders sagging a little. He nodded “Yes, I know. The time will come when I can. But not yet. Things are too complicated right now.”

Dumbledore looked nothing but sympathetic. “Believe an old man in his experience when I say, preparing them for the blow is far more gentle than a moment longer of blissful ignorance.”

Merlin nodded slowly. “I believe you. It’s just I- he’s been learning but,” he paused. “I ruined everything I brought it back so far I brought him back so far…”

Dumbledore frowned and leaned forward a little. “Whatever has been done can be undone with the correct knowledge under his belt. You need not worry my-Merlin. What happened?”

“He… he was going to kill his father.” Merlin whispered. “It'd have left him undone. He did it because he trusted a vision from a sorceress. I told him magic was,” he gulped, forcing words out. “Evil. That she, was. Lying.” He shook his head.

“He thanked me.” His voice was quiet, squeaking a little, like thin glass.

The pained look on his face pulled at Dumbledore’s heart with sympathy. The story sounded sadly familiar. “You poor child. So young, with such trial on your shoulders.”

Merlin shook his head. “It’s alright. But. He… Telling him about magic now would only anger him. He’s too far away again.”

Dumbledore patted his hand again. “We shall work in small steps. For now,” he waved a hand, Merlin felt magic. “I invite you to stay at the castle. I promise no magic will be cast in your room without consent. However, multiple wards are already in place and will not be removed.”

Arthur stared.

Merlin glanced at him haltingly. Arthur was now looking much more attentive, frowning and walking over. He’d heard that.

“What exactly is happening? “ The prince demanded _just_ a little haughtily.

“Er- he’s offering us board at his castle. There’s magic, but – you heard! And we wouldn’t have to pay.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled again. “And I can assure you, the food will be far better too.”

“Merlin’s been cooking. Anything is better.” Arthur grumbled. Merlin objected. “Tell me more about this deal, beard trimming magician. What do you want from us?”

“Ah. I’ve taken a liking to this young man! If he could assist me with a few things, I’d count that as debt fulfilled.”

“What things, old man.”

“Beard trimming!” Merlin put a hand on the table to keep himself from falling over. He couldn’t stop the giggles.

Arthur looked rather annoyed. “It really is a pity you’ll never grow one of your own to see how it is then, Merlin, if you’ve taken to it so much.”

“Hey now! I’m not that old you know I could still grow some hair on my face.”

Arthur snorted, full of skepticism while Dumbledore hummed in amusement quietly.

“Is that so Merlin? Are you hoping the beard will realize it needs to grow at twenty five? Thirty, perhaps?”

“At least I don’t scare the court ladies away because I forgot to shave for two days.” Merlin grumbled.

Arthur glowered.

Dumbledore asked if his offer was accepted.

Arthur sighed, crossing his arms and sitting down with the two of them. "Tell me more about this agreement. What are you planning with my manservant, and how much can I trust your word on this use of magic?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Oh, it isn't much. Perhaps I will take him during the day and you may have him back at the evening."

"You honestly think I will accept that? He's my manservant!"

"You would certainly be getting a better deal from me than this lovely establishment."

 Arthur threw his arms up. "Are you really going to be beard trimming _all_ _day_?"

"I will be teaching him about it as well, good sir."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Merlin bit his lip.

"I..... Don’t know about this." Merlin said, after a long moment of Arthur glaring at Dumbledore. "I'm not really sure I should be learning...... trimming.......... from you."

"Nonsense. You need to learn from someone, or your own beard will get away from you someday."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the rather long beard Dumbledore himself sported. This conversation made very little sense, he decided. Merlin had finally met someone as strange as him.

"Right so. What?" Arthur said.

Merlin glanced at him. Then back at Dumbledore.

"What say you, my lord?" he finally asked. "I think the rooms would be much nicer."

Arthur narrowed his eye and looked around the room, then back at them. "Fine."

Merlin's shoulders tensed, then relaxed. "Alright. I'll pack our belongings."

Arthur made a face, but just shoved the armor he'd removed from earlier into Merlin's hands.

"If you really want to move so quickly then! Fine."

Merlin pulled off his jacket and used it to bundle the armor.

"Alright." He grinned at them. "All packed, I think."

Arthur huffed in a long suffering way.

Dumbledore twinkled in his eyes and nodded. "Then we shall go back to the castle now."

Arthur started following, with Merlin carrying his things behind. "How far?"

"Not far at all! This is practically the lower town." Dumbledore said this, a little bit for a test. It wasn’t a tern often used anymore. Arthur and Merlin both nodded in understanding as if this was completely normal though. How curious.

He led them out of the little pub and down the path. The castle was almost immediately visible as soon as they were on the main road.

"Impressive," Arthur commented.

Merlin stared and tried to imagine what it would be like, magic everywhere. Magic _taught_. He found he could not picture it.

He felt himself abuzz with excitement and emotion though. This was a risk, a serious risk. But he… had to try. He had never experienced an opportunity like this before. He needed to.

Arthur looked very tense. He still had his sword at his side, jaw clenched, eyes alert. He was waiting for the magic around him to show just how evil it truly was. Merlin felt a pang of deep unhappiness in his chest, but didn't say anything. This was going to be difficult. He sighed

The castle was, of course, nearly empty because of the hour. They saw only one person patrolling the halls and she was waved off my Dumbledore very quickly.

"I'll put you two here," Dumbledore said, opening a door on the fourth floor. "Tell me; is it to your liking?"

The room was neutrally colored, two beds already there and made up. They looked as nice as Arthur's back in Camelot. Both of them. Merlin's looked nice too.

He was looking forward to this.

But he glanced over at Arthur without saying anything. Arthur made a slow circle around the room, poking things and checking every nook and cranny.

"....It'll do."

"Thank you. Very much." Merlin added, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

Dumbledore smiled back, eyes twinkling brightly. "I'm glad. I'll be back in the morning for Merlin."

Arthur appraised him once more, then nodded and turned from him. Dumbledore nodded to Merlin and put a firm wrinkled hand on his shoulder, then left. Merlin continued grinning and nodded back.

"Wipe that smile off your face. This is too nice for you Merlin; it's giving you a swelled head. You're lucky I'm so kind, or I'd have you sleeping on the floor."

Merlin scoffed. "You wouldn't."

 "I could." Arthur threatened. "But I won't. Because I am just that nice. And the previous beds at that warlock tavern were such a travesty even you deserve something to cover the memory."

He sat on the bed carefully. It didn't feel like it was full of frogs. Merlin leapt on his, bouncing several times and rolling in the covers and pillows.

Arthur looked over, eyebrows arched high. "I do hope you've never done that to my bed."

Merlin laughed. "Of course not! This is _my_ bed, sire."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he was starting to relax just the tiniest bit. "Well, sleep, you. I'll still be expecting you to work for me whenever I get home from whatever you're doing with that man."

Merlin sighed. "Of course. I'll do that." He rolled onto his side, still feeling elated. ".....you don't need anything before you turn in, do you, sire?"

"No." Arthur informed him after a moment of thought. "I’ll be needing breakfast in the morning though." Merlin nodded into the pillow (the softest he'd ever slept on) and Arthur flopped back onto his own bed with a sigh.

 Arthur was up before Merlin in the morning. He was so deeply entrenched in the pillows and duvets that Arthur could only really make out a tuft of black hair.

"Merlin." he said, but decided not to pursue it after nothing happened. He took up his sword and practiced instead.

Merlin was still fast asleep when there was a knock at the door. Arthur looked at it suspiciously, shaking sweat out of his face. "Merlin." He tried again.

There was movement this time. Merlin rolled over, still mostly asleep, but obviously starting to stir. "Mmmm......whut? Gaius these pillows are amazing........"

"Merlin, I'm not Gaius. Address me with respect."

Merlin's eyes shot open and he blinked at Arthur glaring down at him.

"I said get me breakfast before you left, but now there's knocking. Get the door."

Merlin fell out of bed, hands and knees thumping on the ground. He staggered up and ran to the door, hair and clothes mussed. "Hello?" he asked when he pulled the door open.

"Good morning!" Dumbledore greeted. "I trust you slept well? Excellent! Then Merlin, we must get started."

Arthur muttered something about eccentric tastes then called over to them. "Merlin, my breakfast first!"

 "Ah, yes, I shall show you the kitchens and you can bring something up for the both of you." he leads Merlin out and shuts the door. "All the students are at breakfast or in bed, the path should be clear." He winked at Merlin.

Merlin smiled at him. "Thank you, er-"

"You should call me professor, from now on. I will find you after you've eaten, and we shall start getting you ready for your learning."

"....Getting me ready?"

"Yes, you'll need to be sorted, and your level will have to be determined."

".......Okay?"

Dumbledore smiled at him very reassuringly. "Good. Now pay attention. You may want to come here on your own." They stopped in front of a painting of fruit. It was a very large painting, and the fruit looked very nice, but Merlin was confused.

Dumbledore reached out and tickled the pear. It wiggled in the painting, gave out a giggle and suddenly sprouted a doorknob.

"And there we are!" He swung the painting open.

Merlin laughed in delight, grinning at the show of magic. He was never going to tell Arthur where the kitchens were, but he was already becoming well aware of how much he would love living in such a magical place. He could just imagine what kind of spells you'd use to do that.

Inside, there was a flurry of movement, as hundreds of little creatures scurried over to them. "Helloooooo sirs, please tell us what you'd like!"

Merlin blinked at them, surprised.

"These are house elves, Merlin. They have incredibly powerful magic, but they are some of the kindest creatures you'll ever meet. They dislike violence and do love to help."

A good dozen of the nearest elves were squirming and blushing at the complements. Merlin grinned at them.

"They also are our kitchen and cleaning staff. Do say thank you." He turned to them. "Two breakfasts for our guests, please."

"Oh yes, of course!" Merlin grinned, just as the house elves said almost the exact same thing and scurried off to do as told.

Dumbledore smiled at him. "They will be done shortly. I think.... I will show you my office on the way back, that way you can simply go there afterwards without having to wait."

"Yes, that sounds good, professor, thank you!"

The elves returned with two plates piled high with food. Merlin doesn't think he's ever been so spoiled. But just to make sure.

"One's mine, and one's for Arthur, right?" Dumbledore nodded. Merlin smiled and carefully made his way back with the two plates.

 "Arthur! Breakfast!" He said and handed him off a plate. Arthur raised an eyebrow as Merlin dug into his own, convinced it would be taken away if he didn't eat it quickly. He was off again before Arthur could say anything. He said he'd be back in the evening.

Arthur wasn't really sure what to think, but he supposed Merlin just wasn't used to people pampering him.

It was a little amusing.

He just shook his head and went back to his own food. It wasn't until he was mostly done that he realized something.

"What am I supposed to do for the whole of the day?" He demanded to no one in particular.

 


	3. The mind grows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's a new one!" Merlin laughed, looking a lot less worried about this then he should. They stared. Merlin made a face. "We get a lot of dark wizards attacking where I'm from. Back from the dead is popular." [edited and re-uploaded]

Merlin practically skipped to the headmaster's door. When he got to the gargoyle, he said the password hurriedly, and ran up the spiraled stairs two at a time to knock on the door.

Dumbledore smiled at him. "Welcome, Merlin. Was your breakfast alright?" Merlin nodded vigorously and sat in the offered chair.

 "Yes, it was delicious, thank you."

"Excellent. Now, let us begin. What would you like to do first? Shall we place you, or test your knowledge? Or would you like to learn about the world here?"

Merlin bounced a little in his seat, grinning. "Do I have to choose? What exactly is sorting? How are you going to test my knowledge exactly?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Slow down, dear boy... you have the whole of the day, remember?" Merlin nodded vigorously, still grinning. His eyes were sparkling with a willingness to learn Dumbledore wasn't sure he'd ever seen in all his years. Well, none quite so bright and pure at least.

"Let us start with testing your knowledge. I'm sure you're like to test your metaphorical wings."

Merlin looked nervous, but nodded eagerly. "Alright,"

Dumbledore started with first year knowledge, asking him to name certain objects and plants. To float things, push things. He asked if he could conjure fire, water, and transform tiny objects.

Merlin did all of these things easily, and without even incantations for most of them. A flare of pure magic just rose in his eyes. As they moved onto second, and then third year knowledge, he started using archaic incantations to complete the spells, but he still did them with ease. Fourth year, he was a little confused by some of the requests Dumbledore gave.

"Hmmm.... How old are you, Merlin?"

"Sixteen, sir." Merlin said after a moment. It seemed he hadn't thought about it in a while.

He nodded, and asked him more fourth year material. He mentioned some fifth year spells and concepts, but it seemed that was the limit of his knowledge.

"Good, good," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Now how are you feeling? Not tired or bored, I hope?"

“No! Not at all!"

"Then shall we get you sorted? For you, this will just be a schedule to follow. I assume you'll be staying with your friend."

Merlin nodded. "Arthur will go stir crazy otherwise."

Dumbledore laughed jovially. "Yes, we'll have to find something for him to do. A challenge, as everything here is magic. Hmmm.... Perhaps I could introduce him to Mr. Filch." Merlin looked curious, but Dumbledore just shook his head, smiling in amusement like it was a joke.

"How about I get the hat for you, Merlin?" Merlin nodded curiously, watching as Dumbledore stood, and got a very old and patched hat down from a shelf.

"This will be your sorting. Are you ready, my boy?" Merlin nodded and the ancient looking hat was slipped over his head.

 _Oh! Well, then. This_ is _unusual, isn't it?_

"You can talk in my mind?" Merlin asked out loud.

_I can, I can. It's something you've encountered a few times before, Merlin Emrys, isn't it._

 "A... couple times," Merlin admits.

_It's not a bad thing, my boy. Just one way of talking, for those who can hear it._

"I suppose. Are you going to sort me?"

_Sort the great Merlin! What an honor. I don't feel I should, though. For a characteristic is just a characteristic, and while the students should find themselves at home among those of similar traits and interests, I'm afraid I feel tentative to choose you a house based on these._

"...Oh."

Merlin looked up at the dark rim of the hat questioningly. "Then... what?"

_Hmmm.... What indeed. I had never expected something like this. You here, I wonder how much time you'll spend. You must start somewhere. Tell me, why don't you choose? Would you rather the thick of things, or where it gets most interesting?_

Merlin laughed softly, feeling oddly like he was in a hushed conversation, so he didn't want to do so too loudly.

"Both, I suppose? I'll get wrapped up in it somehow anyway."

Merlin could have sword he felt the hat smile atop his head, while Dumbledore watched very curiously.

Then the hat opened his mouth. "Gryffindor!" Merlin jumped as their conversation suddenly became public. It sounded like gibberish. Maybe a spell. He repeated it and looked up at Dumbledore curiously.

"That'll be your house, then. Fifth year, I think. Though perhaps fourth, if we can't catch you up." He twinkled. "But I don't think that will be a problem."

Merlin grinned so widely his cheeks hurt again. "O-okay."

A nod. "Yes. Well then I think next, we should tell you a bit about the world, and then see if you can't be caught up on those pesky fourth year trip-ups."

"Alright. Where do we start?"

The rest of the day was exciting. He learned about the 'wizarding world' and the separation between magic and 'Muggles', which cause quite the laugh from Merlin, imagining someone having the nerve to call Arthur that. He learned a bit about the history of Hogwarts, and why it had four houses, and about the founders and what each one stood for. It made Merlin realize why the hat had been uncomfortable with placing him. It seemed odd that you could only have one set of qualities. He thought he had a bit of them all, really.

Merlin was given a list of books, and spells to look into as well, and the password to the Gryffindor common room, so he could study magic in there without fear of Arthur looking over his shoulder.

Finally, Dumbledore asked Merlin if he wanted a wand.

"By all means, you're powerful enough to go without. But you'd have an easier time fitting in."

 "Can I store it some place other than my room?" Dumbledore nodded and offered his office.

"Since you will be coming here in the morning. It will be safe, I assure you."

"Alright, then. Okay!" And off Dumbledore lead him (through the _fire_ ) to get a wand that might suit him.

The man at the shop spent hours trying different ones. They were all snatched away before he could touch them for more than a second. Dumbledore looked amused. Merlin was starving. It was certainly past lunchtime.

The worst of it was that there didn't seem to be any progress being made. The shop keeper was starting to look perplexed. Dumbledore looked thoughtful.

"Perhaps you'll be forced to do without."

Merlin looked distraught. “I really don't want to stick out!" He insisted. He got a thoughtful noise in response as they made their way back to the castle and got themselves a meal. Merlin figured he should bring one back to Arthur too. Wow, he'd almost forgotten about the prat.

"I think I'll have a solution by the time you return." Dumbledore assured him. Merlin accepted the dismissal and took both plates back to his room. There was an awful lot of stair climbing in castles, wasn't there? Oh! Never mind, the stairs seem like they'd rather wander off. Interesting!

He laughed at them, and found his way back to the room he and Arthur had shared the night before. It was a lot easier than he expected. It almost felt as if the castle was helping him find his way. He'd never been in such a _smart_ castle before.

He pushed the door open with his back and came in. Merlin squawked, and ducked a candleholder as he entered though.

"It certainly _took_ you long enough! You have no idea how bored I am here Merlin. There is absolutely nothing to do!"

Merlin laughed, and put his food down in front of him. "Sorry, Sire. At least you aren't hungry any longer, right?" Arthur huffed.

Merlin ducked when he looked to be finding more to throw. "And there won't be if you make me spill it!" Arthur paused, and Merlin set down his own meal before presenting Arthur with his.

"So." Arthur says.

"So..?" Merlin asks, eating quickly again.

"How much... magic have you seen? Has anyone died?"

Merlin frowned at him. Arthur just shrugged. “I haven't seen much of anyone besides out host." He said.

"And has he done magic?"

"..." Merlin honestly didn't know what to say. "I think the castle tried to make sure I didn't get lost." He offered. That was nice and harmless.

He was given an odd look. "The castle did." Merlin nodded. Arthur sighed, rather unhappily. "Wonderful. Fantastic. The very castle we're residing in is magic. We might as well die honorably tonight before we're murdered in our sleep."

Merlin snorted at him, and sat down in front of his lunch.

"That's not going to happen. We don't know how to get back to Camelot yet, but that doesn’t mean we can't." After a pause, "It doesn’t mean we won't."

Arthur appraised him, then rolled his eyes and started eating. "You're so dimwitted, Merlin. I wasn't serious." Merlin wanted to do that thing that Arthur did sometimes and punch him in the arm. It seemed appropriate, but Arthur would punch back harder. "I was thinking," He said.

Merlin looked surprised. " _Were_ you?"

"Yes, prat. I was thinking...we're in a place where magic isn't banned. So, maybe I've not seen any evil magic because there's no... need of... it."

Merlin's eyes widened. "Do- do you think so?"

Arthur sighed. "I don't know. Of course, Magic can't be trusted, but these people just don't really seem that they need to... fight anyone. There's no one stopping them. They've got power."

"....Ah." He remembered what Dumbledore had told him about 'dark wizards'. How there was one around right now. He sighed, and looked down. "Be careful still, sire. Some might be kindhearted but there are likely still...."

Arthur made a face. "Yes of course I know. As I said. Magic of course can't be trusted."

Merlin frowned. "What I meant was that-"

 "It doesn't matter what you mean, Merlin. It stands as truth. I'm sure this place will be clear to you sooner or later." Arthur said. He stood and paced. Then he handed off his plate for Merlin to take back.

"What else have you learned?"

"Not like you'll listen long enough for me to say." He grumbled.

Arthur glared at him, and then reached over and swatted Merlin upside the head. "Merlin, shut up and tell me."

"If I'm shutting up.... I can't tell you, now can I?"

"Merlin!"

"....there's a war going on here."

He looked down at his food. "A war between their government and what they're calling a 'dark wizard'. It's a secret war, though."

"The magic people are warring amongst themselves?"

Merlin nodded, looking at the ground. "...yes."

 "Typical." Arthur spat. Merlin kicked him.

"You say that when one mention of the word magic in a _peace talk_ with your father world spell years of war."

Arthur made a face. "That has nothing to do with this."

"It has everything to do with it!" Merlin protested, looking a little more annoyed than Arthur thought he really had any reason to.

"Merlin. Go bring my plates back to the kitchen. Right now."

"I'm not done eating yet!"

"Yes. You are. Go!"

Merlin grabbed them and stalked off in such a huff he slammed the door behind. He didn't return until late that night, a somewhat cold plate handed off to Arthur while Merlin just crawled into the large bed.

He still acted like it was a treat, moving around for a good long while under the covers and rearranging the pillows ten times. When he finally settled down, he was thinking. Dumbledore's solution had been brilliant, and positively silly. Merlin appreciated it. Going off the designs of power channeling staffs, Dumbledore procured a hollow 'wand' a director of power, rather than a focus or amplifier of it.

It worked perfectly.

Pretty much, he was going to be waving around a plain old stick. He smiled a little as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Arthur watched him sleep, a little annoyed. He wasn't sure he really wanted to go wandering, but he wouldn't be able to stand just staying in the room tomorrow. Maybe he'd go for a hunt. There was a forest on the grounds, and it seemed thick enough.

After finishing his meal, he glanced over at the snoozing Merlin, and then laid down in his own bed.

He'd need Merlin for that, though.

“Merlin” Arthur said the next morning after Merlin returned with breakfast. “Tell our host that your duties are to me first. We are going hunting.”

“…”

“…Arthur.”

“No buts, Merlin.”

Merlin stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. “I’ll tell him then. Are we doing it in the forest here?”

He nodded, and took a large bite of his breakfast. Merlin made a face. “Be careful then, sire. I heard there are unicorns in the forest here.”

Arthur made such a horrified face that Merlin nearly laughed.

“Oh god I do not want to go through that again.”

“Yes, me neither. Perhaps you could think of another use of time?”

“Than hunting? I don’t exactly have my knights to train with, nor my father to teach me of the kingdom.” Arthur said. There was a flash of sadness. He missed home.

Merlin frowned at him, feeling sympathetic, but mostly worried. “No, I know. I- Sire, it might be…desirable, but maybe you should try learning magic in this country? It’d… be something to do…”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re speaking treachery.”

“I’m not saying cast it!”

“Learning it can corrupt, too.”

Merlin sighed. Arthur stared hard at him. “Well, we might be here for a while. You’ll need to figure something out.”

“Will I, now.”

“Maybe!  I need to go now though, sire. …Unless you still want to hunt in the Unicorn forest?” Arthur threw his dish and Merlin fled the room.

Today was his first day of lessons. He wanted an early start. After all,

Lessons.

On magic!

Sorcerers actually teaching him real magic.

And no one was going to die. Or get their head chopped off,

Or burn,

Or starve.

It was a very good day. He was grinning his head off, with quite a bounce in his step as he made his way to Dumbledore’s office. Except he ran into someone on the way.

She blinked. “What are you doing here?!”

“Oh, hi miss!” Merlin said. He racks his brain for a name, but decided she hadn’t said.

“Are you… Did Professor Dumbledore bring you here?”

“Yes,” Merlin grinned at her. “I’m here to learn magic. Formally. It’s incredible I can hardly believe it!” He bounced and tried to straighten his face, and grinned again. She looked rather surprised, but then she smiled back.

“Oooh, that’s brilliant! I’m so glad. What did he do with... that man?”

Merlin stared for a moment, and then laughs. “Oh, he’s here too! He’s hiding from the magic in his room.”

Hermione covers her mouth, not sure to be unhappy or amused.

“You aren’t in trouble with him, are you?”

“No. He’s bored, though. I’m… trying to get him to read some things, but he just accused me of treason.” Merlin shrugged, looked amused but resigned.

She looked rather confused by this. “Treason? What?”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, covering his mouth in surprise. “Yes. Erm, well, he’s heir to the throne of where were from, so…”

Her eyes widened. Merlin looked around. “Please, tell no one. I’ll have to convince him to remain in disguise.”

“I won’t tell,” Hermione promised.

He smiled gratefully. “Thanks. Best not to let him know, actually.”

She nodded vigorously. “Don’t worry, the secret’s safe with me!”

He nodded back with a smile and excused himself so he could go meet with Dumbledore. Hermione made her way to breakfast thoughtfully.

“Professor? Hello, good morning.” Merlin bowed. Dumbledore smiled.

“Good morning. Are you ready for your day?” Merlin nodded, smiling at him. “Excellent. Your first class is potions. Do you remember where the room is?”

Merlin made a face, but he was being thoughtful for the most part. “I think, yes.” Dumbledore nodded serenely.

“Then off you go, my boy.”

The dungeons made him both uncomfortable and happy. On one hand, they were dungeons. On the other, there was no place to imprison anyone. No witches rotting in cells, no terrified peoples awaiting injustice (or sometimes justice. About half, Merlin reckoned).

He walked into the nearly empty classroom, and skirted past the man at the desk to the very back.

He looked up, without moving his head. “Stop,” he ordered, his voice sounding the most unpleasant mixture of annoyance and standoffishness. Merlin stopped abruptly and looked around.

“…Yes, sir?”

“The headmaster told me of you. State your name.”

“Merlin, my lord. Er, Professor.”

Snape raised an eyebrow at the form of address. “Merlin. _Just_ Merlin.”

“Well, mostly, yes.”

“Hmm.”

Merlin looked curious. “Is there anything more m—Professor.” The word seemed foreign to him, Snape noted.

He signed. “Yes, there would be more. You’re arriving to this class very last in you school career mister… _Merlin,_ and already into the year. You have no partner.”

“Oh. Yes, of course! Erm. Partner?”

“You work in twos in this class.”

“Really? Oh, well, who would you have me assist?”

“That’s not the problem. There are no others.” Merlin’s face fell.

“Oh. Should I leave, my-” he cleared his throat. “Professor.”

An eyebrow arched delicately. “In this situation, mister Merlin, you would become a group of three.”

“Oh!” Merlin’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Alright, with who?”

Snape sighed. “Whoever, I suppose. There’s a group that sits at the table you’re at.” He pauses, a slight sneer. “I advise you not work with the table in front, nor the third one down in the row you’re in. You’ll never get anything done.”

“Professor, where would you put me, then?” Snape was sure of it, now. He didn’t know the meaning of the word. He said it like some noble title.

Snape sighed, standing. “I do not care, mister Merlin. Do what you will and get. Something. Done.  
You may be a special circumstance, but this does not mean I will be treating you any differently from another student.”

Merlin nodded vigorously, grinning. “Yes, of course! Sorry for bothering you, Professor.”

Snape raised a dark, sharp eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you’ve said nothing of those tables over there.” Merlin asked carefully.

He stared for a long moment before saying “I did not.”

“Then I will attempt over there, with your permission?” Another long hard stare before he nodded. He wondered who this boy was. He would of course ask Albus later, but for now, he would observe. He seemed curiously like the most respectful student he’d ever seen, barring a few of the braver Hufflepuffs. It didn’t sit well with him.

Merlin shifted to the back of the other row. Students were starting to come in now. Hermione saw him and smiled. Merlin smiled broadly back, and looked bemused when she sat in the third row back.

She looked curious. He shook his head in amusement. She glanced at Snape, and at the students starting to file in, and then crept over to him.

“Are you in this class now?”

“Yes! Apparently. I was told to pair with a group, since I am a latecomer.”

“Oooh. You might not want to sit there, then… Would you like to come join mine?”

“Oh no, I shouldn’t. He recommended I not sit over there.”

“Graaaanger. What _are_ you doing over here?”

“Granger, sit down.” Snape called over, not looking up.

She frowned, gave Merlin one last look, then sat down with a nervous looking boy.

“And _you_ there. What are you doing in _my_ seat?” He had such an air of nobility that Merlin was on his feet immediately.

He was giving the other boy a very amused look. “My _apologies_ , my _lord_.” He said, a touch wry. He moved down a table and sat again. Then the idea of nobles with magic hit him.

He stared at the boy, feeling a little shell-shocked, and watched as he sat down in the seat with a very odd look. Two large boys stared at him now. Merlin glanced at them, a little questioning.

They didn’t look like nobility, well not the sort he got along with. Malfoy eyed him further. “Who _are_ you?”

“Merlin, sir. I’m nobody.”

He is given the oddest look yet. “Haahaaaa. Really now, you _can’t_ be serious.”

“Why not?” Merlin cocked his head. “It’s just a name.”

“I suppose it is.” The boy finally sat down. The other two looked confused. Snape looked up and sighed under his breath.

“Crabbe, seat yourself. Goyle, work with Potter and Weasley.” One of the large people sat in the seat ahead of them, the other sitting in the front of the other row.

Oh, He supposed he’d be in a group of two then.

Another boy walked over and sat beside him, eyebrows arched. “I have a new partner then do I?” he asked. He had an air of nobility to him as well. But it was more reserved, like that of a knight (A proper one, not one of those bullies).

Merlin bowed his head respectfully to him. “It would seem so, sir. I will do all I can to aid you.”

“…I see.”

He was just going to get funny looks all day, wasn’t he? Well, he supposed that was to be expected.

He paid rapt attention when the professor started to teach. Oh, how interesting. Potion craft. Well, he was familiar with this. Thank the gods.

When Snape set them to work, after a long lecture on the uses of certain ingredients and how to properly handle them, Merlin first looked to the boy would be his partner. He was fine with this, but he was a little nervous if this man would expect certain things of him. He would rather wait and see what he seemed to want.

Blaise looked over at him, just as curious. “How shall we divvy the responsibilities, then?”

“I can prepare the ingredients, if you’d do the potion,” Merlin said. “I’d like to watch. Never really done that part myself.”

He stared at him curiously for a moment, then nodded and gestured to them. “Alright then. You may call me Blaise, by the way.”

“Merlin,” Merlin informed him cheerfully as he began. He missed the look of utter bafflement.

“Why are you here so suddenly, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Just. Learning for a bit. While I can.”

“While you can?”

“Magic is forbidden where I live.”

“Travesty. Why are you returning?”

“I have family, among other things.” Merlin said. He chopped the ingredients steadily, crushed what was needed, and passed them over whenever he finished.

Blaise watched him, trying to process the information while noting that oddly, it seemed he was very good at preparing ingredients, despite his apparent lack of experience.

”Why is magic illegal where you come from?”

“People abused the power, I suppose.”

“Did they?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t alive then, so I don’t know. But I heard there was a lot of dark magic.”

“Interesting. Unfortunate, though.”

“Yeah. It’ll be back one day.”

“Soon, I should hope.” Blaise said. He added the ingredients to the cauldron with purpose.

Merlin laughed, looking down at his place-setting with a little smile. "Yes.... well I don't think soon. There’s a long way to go before people like me could be trusted."

Blaise glanced at Merlin curiously, but he couldn’t spare too long, or his potion would suffer greatly. He scrambled back to it, and started stirring with his wand as he's supposed to.

Merlin snickered, and started watching him work. He had a very cheerful face, and was obviously examining every move Blaise made. It was a little (lot) disconcerting.

"...what are you doing in a place like this, then? Are you alone?"

 "No, I'm here with my master. But he wants no part of this, and he's currently, uh, hiding." Merlin sounded very amused. "Are you here with family? I don't really understand how this place works."

"Not as much," Blaise said. "Hogwarts is a school for magical children in Britain. At eleven, we are invited to learn here, and we return every year until we are of age."

"That's fascinating." Merlin said. "Maybe when things are better at home, something like that can begin. It'd be nice."

"Perhaps you'll bring it about. You do have quite a legacy to your name."

Merlin laughed, smiling a little questioningly. "Legacy? What do you mean?"

Blaise looked at him sideways and raised his eyebrows, but couldn't answer immediately. Once he could though, he leaned back in his seat and looked at Merlin fully, curiously. 

"You can't _not_ have heard of your namesake. Merlin. The greatest sorcerer to ever live—he's practically the founder of modern magic."

Merlin's eyebrows shot up. "Really? I hadn't! I thought my mother named me after the bird!" He laughed. Blaise snorted, but didn't seem completely convinced this could be possible.

"Perhaps he's called Emrys where you come from. You can't just not know of him. But some did call him that, I think."

As he said this, he'd started stirring the potion again, but in the moments he'd taken his eyes off his new partner, he'd completely lost him from the conversation. He glanced back. Merlin looked stiff, and a little alarmed. He’s gone white.

"What? Have you heard of him, then?" Blaise said. He frowned thoughtfully and gave the potion another stir. "Oh, well, I can't imagine what a place that's banned magic would say about the greatest of it to have ever lived."

"...Yes. That is, I heard he was. Evil. They say all magic is."

"Well, obviously, you don't seem to think so."

Merlin shook his head. "No. I believe it can be used for good,"

His voice was much quieter. He seemed to be in shock. Blaise eyed him, not really sure what to say. He supposed, if he was named after a man he'd been brought up to fear, he would be a little shocked as well. Just considering being named after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was rather uncomfortable. He did hope the boy pulled himself together, if he was really going to be his partner much longer. 

Not that he was so convinced he would be. Goyle over there with Weasley and Potter looked like a very unintelligent match-up. Not even Professor Snape would be able to deal with that.

He just sighed, shaking his head and putting the last of the ingredients into the cauldron. An odd beginning of the day, but it could be worse.

Their potion came out nicely; much better than when he works with Goyle. Nicer than his work with Nott, too.

"There. That's rather nice, isn't it?" Merlin said proudly.

Blaise nodded. "It is quite good, I think."

Merlin seemed rather pleased with himself, despite having minimal part in the actual making of the potion. But Blaise supposed he might understand how important the ingredient preparation was.

Blaise himself was hoping it would somehow be possible to keep him. It was much easier to babysit an odd newcomer through this class then a _complete idiot_ (or someone as fidgety and distracted as Nott).

Snape was sweeping around the room, eyeing everyone's potions critically at this stage. He stopped in front of Potters and started reaming him out, as was the usual.

"Potter. What. Is this?"

The black haired boy he'd talked with yesterday. Potter, apparently. He didn't answer, glaring down at the table. Their potion was giving off a noxious smelling black smoke that gathered at the ceiling like a storm cloud. The other two at the table looked surly, too.

"No answer, Potter? Do you feel that no explanation is required?" The professor sneered down at them, his face twisting. The look of hatred made Merlin's stomach twist. He glanced over at Blaise.

Blaise wasn't paying the scene much mind at all. He looked bored. The blond boy next to them was snickering rather obviously though. Oh. Bullying. Hmmmm.

Merlin wasn't really sure how to deal with this, if it was the teacher who looked at the boy with such hatred. It seemed a sticky and all together un-tanglable situation from his place at the sidelines. Maybe he could distract from it though.

Blaise looked over to him to say something about this, (probably say this happens every class or something of the like) but he stopped mid syllable, because he'd just seen the oddest thing.

A bright, golden light appeared in Merlin's eyes, and then all Snape's scrolls had tumbled off his desk and across the dungeon floor.

Snape swept his eyes abruptly over the rest of the class, nostrils flared dangerously. "Who. Did. That."

Everyone in class looked appropriately confused. His eyes swept around, narrowed. They stopped on Hermione, but she looked so bewildered that he moved on. Finally he just waved a hand sharply at the papers and they put themselves back on the table.

"Turn in your potions." he said, through gritted teeth.

Merlin looked over at a rather startled looking Blaise to ask how you do that. He blushed a little, upon realizing Blaise must have noticed him. They stared at each other for a long moment, then Blaise cleared his throat and looked away.

"Yes, well we best do as asked. He means of course, we need to get a sample and bring it to him." A slow nod from Merlin, who could feel his shoulders relax just a little.

"Alright. That sounds easy enough- would you like me to do it?"

"Hmm... how about next time. I'll make sure you know how this time." Merlin nodded.

Harry and Ron were trying to quietly discuss what just happened, but it was hard with a certain Slytherin oaf hanging over their shoulder for the class. Blaise and Merlin’s potion was turned in. The teacher was still in a thunderous mood, but looked appraisingly at their work. He gave the barest hint of a nod to Blaise, and put it with the rest.

Harry and Ron talked with Hermione a little outside the classroom. "Did you do that?"

"No," Hermione said. "I think they really just fell down."

"Well, that was lucky." Harry said. "I thought he was going to start deducting again."

Merlin wandered over curiously. "Are you alright?"

Harry Ron and Hermione looked over to them. Ron and Harry looked rather startled to see him. Apparently, despite having Goyle in their group, they hadn't realized he was there.

"Bloody hell! What are you doing here?" Merlin laughed at Ron's response.

"He's here to learn, Ron! Really. Ooooh, but we're fine; that was normal, really." Harry stared at Merlin curiously, but nodded to Hermione's statement.

"Yeah, he's just a git. He's always been unfair to the Gryffindors."

"...oh has he? He didn't seem too bad with me?"

They stared for a moment. "You've been sorted?" 

"Somewhat. Yes, the hat said Gryffindor. Did you have a talking hat?"

"Yes, that's also normal." Hermione assured him. "But that was the Slytherin side of the room."

Merlin nodded, absorbing all of this. "Is the Slytherin house a higher rank?"

"No, no. Not at all. All the houses are equal, but sometimes the teachers are biased."

Ron scoffed. Merlin nodded slowly. "Okay. I suppose that makes sense. So he's biased.... Against you, or for them?"

"Both." Harry and Ron grumbled pretty much in unison. "Snape's an awful teacher, he doesn’t do anything fairly."

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked. "That's not _true_... He's a little mean sometimes, but he's a good teacher...."

Merlin smiled a little, walking with them and listening to them talk. They managed to get off the subject of Snape, and onto the subject of houses in general. Merlin appreciated the conversation. 

After a moment though, Hermione gasped and looked over to him. "Oh _no_ , I'm sorry! It must be so _rude_ , you can't really participate in the conversation."

"Oh. Sorry, mate." Merlin got to dish out one of his own odd looks when Ron called him ‘mate’ again, but just shook his head with a grin. Language difference, obviously. Like their funny accents.

"Nah, I'm alright, just listening."

"What sort of classes are you taking, Merlin? Where are you headed next?" Hermione insisted despite what he said. 

"I'm going to a class called 'transfiguration', if my memory serves me."

"That's the same as ours, then. Do you have the same schedule? Oh, are you in fifth year?" Hermione said. Merlin smiled at the questions, nodding to all.

"Then you should sit with us," Ron offered.

Merlin shook his head, to their surprise. "No, but thank you. I know why I was told not to sit there; I'd have talked with you all through the class instead of paid attention. I should like to talk after classes, though."

They looked rather startled by his response. Well, mostly Ron did. Harry looked amused, and shrugged. Hermione seemed positively delighted by this mindset, and said she would _love_ to. 

"Perhaps you could sit with us during lunch?"

"Oh no, I can't- I have to bring my master his meal at lunch time."

Her face fell. "Oh no... You still have to do things like that?" Merlin laughed, smiling in a way that said 'well why wouldn't I?'

"Of course! Arthur might start throwing things if I let him starve. He doesn’t want to leave the room to come find me." After that statement he paled, just a little. "Well. I wouldn't want him to either."

 Hermione's face fell, eyebrows furrowed and her frown soft around the edges. "Will you be alright?"

"I'm more worried about everyone else."

They all looked wide eyed, but he shook his head with a smile. "He won't leave, I'm sure. I'll just eat in there and keep him company." He smiled at them. "So this next class. What do you do? I'm rather terrible at transforming things. I couldn't even turn sand back to water. Though there may have been reasons for that. Still, it sounds useful."

He's given as confused stare. "Someone turned your water to sand?"

"Yes, well, it was the kingdoms water actually. And... yes. It was a curse." Merlin made a face at the memory. Ron shuddered. "I hope that wasn’t You-Know-Who, I mean I don't know of anyone else that would do that."

"Erm... no, I don't?" Merlin smiled, but he looked rather confused. Ron wasn't sure what he even meant. Harry on the other hand, looked astonished.

"Wait, you've never _heard_ of _Voldemort_?!" Hermione gave him a sharp look.

Merlin noticed their flinch. "No, I haven't. Is this person the one on the other end of the war?"

Harry nodded. "Good, our ministry hasn't got you thinking _that_ hasn't happened. ‘Cause it has; he's back."

Oh. Well then. Back from what?"

"The dead." Harry said.

"Oh really? Risen, or did he preserve his soul?" Merlin said, far more curious than anything else. It was a little unnerving.

"He, uh. Did some dark ritual to create a new body." He whispered. Who knew where Umbridge would pop up?

"That's a new one!" Merlin laughed, looking a lot less worried about this then he should. They stared. Merlin made a face. "We get a lot of dark wizards attacking where I'm from. Back from the dead is popular."

"...Popular."

"Yes well, usually it's another dark sorcerer raising them and sending them after us. Our king isn't well liked."

Ron stared at him, looking a little awestruck. "Blimey, where do you _live_?"

"...I've already told you that..."

Hermione was silent through this. Ron just shook his head at Merlin. McGonagall was coming in, now, though, and they scurried off to their seats. Merlin took one in the back again to keep out of sight.

It was a habit he couldn't help yet.


	4. Of Goosebumps and Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was a magic puppet king!”  
> “You were the greatest king who ever lived you insufferable… clothead!”  
> Arthur calmed again, though only slightly. “Clot head."  
> [Edited and re-uploaded]

The professor here gave him the barest glance before she started to lecture the class. Merlin paid careful attention and thought up questions to research or to ask Professor Dumbledore at a later time. There were a great deal of them, mostly on language. Professor McGonagall started them on something practical, then made her way to the back.

"Good day," she said. "If you are having problems, come to me. It is better to admit a gap in your learning than to cause an accident. Do you understand?" This woman's voice was brisk, but there was softness to the edges. 

Merlin beamed at her. "Thank you, Professor. If you don't mind, I do have some questions."

She appraised him and nodded. "Then speak."

He explains his questions to her in a polite list, which give her the impression he has no idea what Professor means either. She doesn't comment on it though, because he has some of the best questions she's gotten from a Gryffindor in years (Ignoring the questions unrelated to transfiguration, which were more childish). 

She spent a good portion of the class instructing him on what he still needs to learn, and she was very pleased to see how easily he soaked up the knowledge.

"Thank you so much, Professor. I think I can do this now." He looks so jubilantly excited; she can't help but smile a little.

She stayed a last moment to watch the matchbox she conjured to make sure he could apply his knowledge. He tapped it with his wand, speaking softly the spell she told him. She raised an eyebrow, as it was supposed to be applied to the matched individually. Merlin curiously pulled it open, raining needled onto the desk. Her eyebrows arched high, and Merlin laughed in delight, but looked to her hopefully to make sure she thought he was doing it right.

She stared a moment, then nodded. "Good then. Usually, the matched are taken _out_ of the box before you begin."

"Oh! Right, sorry I'm just not really sure what these things are."

"Matches my boy, matches." Merlin felt a twinge in his chest. "Muggles use them to start fires. I do recommend a Muggle studies class."

"Of course, professor. May I try the kettle now?" She gave him the affirmative and watched over him as he carefully cast that spell. The twinge wouldn't go away, he didn't understand. It felt like the first weeks he was away from Ealdor again, but he certainly didn't miss Camelot in the midst of this. He tapped the kettle and watched as it animated itself. Its spout moved like a trunk, nosing along the desk as it stretched its new porcelain legs and started to wander about. He watched in wonder and delight, glancing up at McGonagall every now and then. He couldn’t imagine a life were this was a normal, everyday occurrence.

His heart stopped when it trotted right to the edge, but it stopped itself when the spout trunk found the sharp drop. It touched around until it found desk again.

He watched it turn itself around and grinned at it in complete delight. "Can we keep the things we make?"

McGonagall was mildly amused, but shook her head. "You've nowhere to put it." His face fell.

"Oh. Well, that's true."

"Now turn it back- that's the next step." Merlin watched it sadly for a moment longer, and nodded. He tapped it again, and whispered the spell to the kettle with a little burst of magic. It clattered back into place as an inanimate object. He wondered if the twinge was something more like a longing for this to be home.

He felt a pat on his shoulder. "Very good. We'll make a wizard of you yet." And he had it.

She, this professor, reminded him of Gaius and his heart broke right there.

"Thank you. May I be excused?" She looked skeptical, here sharp eyebrows shot straight up, but nodded. He ran straight back to the room he was sharing with Arthur.

Arthur looked up at the door slam, and saw Merlin slide down it, his expression blank. He stood and grabbed his sword.   
"What did you see?" he said, he voice was soft, but strong and very stern.

"I miss Gaius," was all he got in return.

Arthur stared. His jaw tensed, then relaxed. He sighed. "Of course you do. You don't think I don't miss my father? Gwen? But we've been gone longer than this before. You can suck it up."

Merlin didn't answer him; he just shot him a rather dirty look and proceeded to continue his blank staring.

"Merlin."

"I don't need a pep talk, I just miss Gaius."

"Fine. Sit there. But the bed is more comfortable." He moved over, just a little. Merlin came over after a moment. "You can talk about it if you want. And if you can find maps out there I can find our way back. Part of all my schooling is learning to read those, you know."

Merlin said nothing but he moved over to the bed.

“What. Do you think the maps will be magic, too? Do warlocks even need them?"

"Don't know." Arthur glanced over and shrugged.

"If there's a records room, I can look in there. Books aren't magicked, are they? Why would that even happen?" Merlin looked sidelong over at him. 

"The books are magic. We are in a magic castle, with magic adults teaching magic children, sheltering magic people from a magic war between good magic people and bad magic people. What on earth possessed you to think that the _books_ aren't _magic_?"

Arthur quirked an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

Merlin stared at him for a long moment, and sighed. "No. I have nothing else. What else would there ever be to tell you? Oh. Wait, yes there is. No one seems to believe me if I say that I'm from Camelot because apparently it hasn't existed for several centuries. So a map sounds perfectly useless, even if they did use them." He gritted his teeth and flopped back on the bed. This was a lot more stressful then he had expected it to be. He wondered if it was possible to still call the great Dragon.

It might be.

It might be worth a shot.

Arthur was gaping at him. "What do you _mean_ Camelot _doesn’t exist_ ," Arthur was on his feet. He grabbed his sword, but deemed it useless and dropped it again. "Several centuries! Impossible! They are lying to you. Are you just- They are sorcerers! Or _course_ they are lying!" Merlin just sighed.

"Yes," he said. "That makes perfect sense. Oh look, two strangers from Camelot, why don't we just tell them it's not existed for centuries! What a great idea! We should have done this ages ago!"

"Merlin, shut up." 

"I mean, think about it!" he said. "We evil magic folk hate Camelot! So if we just _keep pretending_ , it will just go away!"

"Merlin." Arthur's tone was heavy, but exasperated.

"Oh! Maybe people like those two morons'll believe us, and we can even stop all travel to the _entire country_. Is this making sense to you, Arthur? Because it isn't making sense to me, and I'm betting it doesn't make any to them either. In fact, I've sort of forgotten where I was going with it."

 Arthur pursed his lips. "You've made your point, Merlin." Merlin glared at him halfheartedly.

"Yes well good then. You found a point." He rolled over so his back was facing Arthur and curled a little on the bed. He hadn't felt such a strong urge to just tell Arthur the truth (and damn the consequence) in a long time. 

He just… didn't want to deal with all the tomfoolery anymore. Not when he had this sinking feeling they might not be able to get back to Camelot at all. This could be a universe parallel to their own, in the future where things had happened as they were supposed to, and Merlin had actually managed to do his duty in protecting Arthur from outrageous mishaps like this. But as it stood, just because history tells one story, doesn’t mean he'll actually manage to be a part of it. His stomach twists, thinking about what was said, about him.

 "..." Arthur sat back down next to him, but a good foot away. "I. Can deal with a magic map. I would rather not rule out falsification, so would you bring me one without telling anyone what it's for?"

Merlin grunted. Then, "You can deal with magic maps. It's not like they are going to jump out at you, it's a map. But ooooh magic is evil." It was hard to hear Merlin, because he was speaking more to the bed than to Arthur. Arthur rolled his eyed again, and knocked him gently in the side with his knee.

"Merlin. Stop sulking and get me a map." Merlin didn't react. Arthur knocked him in the side again. "Merlin."

"Arthur."

He was given an annoyed look now. "Oh come on. Stop being difficult." He knocked him a little harder, and Merlin grunted in response.

"I'll find one later."

 "And what are you going to do now, just lie there?" Merlin nodded. His hair was starting to stick up oddly. "Really." Another nod. "Well, that’s mature."

"You're mature." Merlin said mockingly. Arthur tilted his head, both eyebrow us, and a smirk tugging on his lips.

"I'll have you know I am. And if you don't stop sulking, I'll let them know you are entirely at their horse mucking disposal. I'll tell them you're the best they'll have ever seen at it."

"Don't see any horses outside."

"What, do they ride unicorns?"

Merlin actually laughed. "It seems more like they walk." He still sounds less than cheerful, and he's still talking into the bedding though.

"Walk how _far_? They can't travel to other kingdoms on _foot_."

Merlin shrugged. "Maybe they magic themselves to other countries. You know evil transportation. It's to be feared."

Arthur crossed his arms. "Oh haha, very funny Merlin, you are so amusing."

"Thought so," he said. He turned his head and his voice was clearer now. "Will you freak out? I saw some of the methods. They're harmless."

"Harmless. Really." Merlin nodded. "Fine, go ahead."

"They can walk from fire to fire, but only if the person on the other side allows it. And they have to use a special powder, and name the place. They can get lost if they don't speak clearly."

Arthur stared at him wide eyed. "Really. A fire." Merlin nodded. "That- did they make you walk through it? Why didn't you tell me about this?! They could have been trying to kill you!"

"They weren't! They- didn't. I just saw it happen, is all...." Merlin sounded very tired and unhappy again. If Arthur didn't know better, he would say it was his own reaction to the magic, rather than the magic itself causing Merlin's distress.

"Merlin."

“Yes, my lord?"

"Tell me what's wrong. Right now."

"I have things to do." Merlin said. He sat up and walked quickly to the door. "I'll bring you lunch later. And a map, if I can find one."And he was gone. Arthur glared at the door.

Merlin walked quickly down the corridors back to the transfiguration classroom. He peaked inside to see if class was still in session. It seemed it was, but rather near the end. He slipped inside as McGonagall discussed the homework she expected by this time next week.

Merlin wondered if he was to complete this homework too. It would make sense that he should, though he wasn't sure when. Then again, Dumbledore did say he could work in the student's common room if he didn't want to take it near Arthur. This thought didn't help his mood in the slightest. Rather, it frustrated him further; he really didn't want to _have_ to hide from Arthur while he completed his work. He was tired of hiding who he was, and unfortunately, Gaius wasn't here to tell him his 'time would come'.

Worse yet though, was the thought that in all likelihood, it matter little if he told Arthur the truth. Arthur would probably think he corrupted himself by learning magic, and learning it here. There was just no winning.

When the class was dismissed, Merlin ran up to the front and checked quickly with the Professor that he was indeed to complete the homework normally. She said of course.

To his surprise, Harry Ron and Hermione had waited for him outside the room.

"Hello," he said, and smiled. 

"Hey, mate. Why'd you run out of the room earlier?"

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked. 

"Yes, I'm fine. Ah, homesickness I think." Hermione patted his arm.

"Oh, I used to have that terribly."

Harry and Ron shared a look of 'no way, no how'.

But Merlin shrugged off the concern and said he was fine now. And actually, quite curious about this next class before lunch. 

"Defense against the Dark Arts? As in Dark magic, right? Not literally dark paintings, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. The class is a load of bollocks, though." Harry said grumpily. "The teacher doesn't actually want you to _learn_ anything."

Merlin looks mildly alarmed. "Is he a dark mage?!"

Ron burst out laughing at the suggestion. Hermione hit him lightly on the arm. "Ron!"

"It's funny!"

Harry laughed a little, quietly. "Yeah, a little funny." But he sobered very quickly. "Well, she isn't- but she's as bad as one. She...." He seems to be at a loss of words to explain it.

Hermione sighs. "You'll be reading for class, is all, out of a less than helpful book."

“...do I have to go, if the class is unhelpful?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Well, I think you must be a special circumstance. Professor McGonagall let you out suddenly, after all."

Ron and Harry looked jealous, but Hermione scolded them. "If you go missing, it'll give her all the more reason to give you trouble." Harry sighed. Ron grumbled. Merlin said he's give the class just one go.

“I think I’ll go too, then.”

The boys inform him this was a rather silly idea, but he just shrugs, and follows them to the class. When they enter, Merlin went to sit in the very back of the room again, and the others sit, surprising him, there too.

"It won't matter anyway." Ron assured him. "She'll give you detention if you talk." Merlin stared blankly at him. It even took Hermione a moment to realize he must not know what a detention was. (Something funny was going on, but now was not the time.)

"It's like, you do something wrong, so a teacher makes you come back in your free time to punish you."

"Oh! Something like the stocks. Alright.”

"Stocks?" Harry hissed, but Umbridge walked in and they could say no more.

Her eyed flicked over Merlin for a moment, and then she sat down and told them all to take out their books and begin the next chapter. "That is chapter _eight_ , for those who chose to disregard schooling until they saw fit."

Merlin decided she must have been talking about him, but just took out the Defense book and started from the beginning. Harry, who was sitting next to him, gave him an odd look for that. Apparently he was skeptical of this book's use from the beginning. As everyone else read (or pretended to read, grumpily) Merlin soaked up anything he could from the book. It was a little.... odd. Definitely a biased read, but he could still learn a bit from it—especially about the current society that this place was set in. He was halfway through skimming chapter nine, when the woman finally told them to stop.

"Hem hem! Everyone stop now, class is almost done." The students all looked up, all with sour expressions speaking clearly what they thought of the class. She smiled like a pixie, large and toad-like. Merlin had to force himself not to laugh. He couldn't help smiling though. "Of course there will be homework- a detailed summary, I think, on the chapter you've just read." Her smile grew. "Oh, and of course, for those who are behind- a like essay for each chapter you need to make up."

Merlin saw Harry's face darken out of the side of his gaze. Well, he didn't like much how this woman was punishing him either. Nor did he write much and a now he was suddenly going to need to write quite a lot. He wasn't sure they would be very impressed. Gaius's chances to teach him such things were almost as limited as his chances to teach him magic.

She dismissed the class, and the students all fled. "You there," She called after Merlin. "A moment, please. If you would?"

"Of course, Professor." He said, tilting his head to the side and turning around. 

"You understood that I will need eight essays from you, yes?"

"Yes, I did, Professor."

She smiled at him, fluttering her eyelashes in a way he was sure was supposed to be attractive, but that he was more used to seeing directed at people with actual power. "Good. I expect them by next class. Oh! And I will need your name for the roster. Any further absences will be rewarded with a detention."

Merlin stared at her. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Merlin."

She tittered. "Come now, if you aren't serious with me, I will be forced to give you one now. Name- first and last!"

"It's Merlin. Just... Merlin."

"Really." He nodded earnestly.

"My mother named me for the bird," he explained.

"Your last name then?" He frowned. The wizarding world must put more stock in everyone for even the most random student to warrant a last name. But Emrys wouldn't do at all. Not after what Blaise had told him. Not if this was some sort of alternate or possible future. Maybe he should have said Merlin was a nickname. Well, too late for that now.

"Um,"

"Yes?" She said impatiently. "You are acting suspicious, _Mer_ lin. I am concerned you are lying to me." She tittered. "Don't do that, now. It'll get you in trouble."

"No, no not lying I just-" He clears his throat. "It's. Gaius. Sorry. Professor." He realized that was the least intelligent thinking on his feet he's done in a while, but he couldn't use Pendragon- if these people had heard of him, there was _no way_ they hadn't heard of Arthur, despite it being the first surname that came into his mind. He hoped she accepted this.

She stared at him a long moment, before nodding brusquely. "Well then, Mister Gaius. I expect those essays by next class. Off you go."

Merlin scurried off, glad to be out of there. She gave him the feeling of an enemy he could do nothing about, because Uther would sooner have his head then believe they were after his. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were waiting for him again, looking a little more concerned this time.

"I need help, I don't know if I can write that much." He tells them a little frantically. Ron huffs, and says he knows the feeling.

"No, I've never written more than a few named on vials." he insisted. "I can't ask my master. He doesn't know I'm doing this at all. Oh bollocks, I need to find a map." He runs off without another word towards the library. Ron just shook his head.

"Never written? Imagine that." Hermione smacked his shoulder.

In the library it was well lit and cool. There were shelves upon shelves of thick tomes and thin booklets, pamphlets, rolled up scrolls and scraps of parchment. Less used corners were dusty and most of the books were dog-eared with use. Students ambled about, searching, or sitting at tables to study. There weren't many, as it was lunch time. Merlin tried to figure out some way to tell which way maps would be.

There didn't really seem to be one. He made a face. It really wasn't helpful either that he was so flustered right now. He really needed to calm down. Perhaps he could ask someone.

As if sensing his thoughts, an old, grumpy looking woman made her way over to him. "Is there something you need, boy?"

He grinned at her. "Yes actually! Thank you Professor-"

"I am not a professor."

"...Oh. Sorry?" Merlin wasn't really sure what to call her, since he got odd looks for 'My lady' and everyone else seemed to accept professor as a title. "I- could you help me find a map?"

She looked at him, then nodded. "Maps are this way. A map of where?"

"Around here would be nice." he said. 

"The school is unplottable. I hope you aren't attempting to find it."

"Madam, what does that mean?" Merlin said, walking quickly to keep up with her brisk pace. She was much more active, quick, and sharp than Geoffrey.

"That it cannot be plotted on a map." She turned the corner and stopped in front of an imposing and dusty bookcase. She gave him several books, saying they are of the British Isles.

He stared at her, not really recognizing the term, but nods slowly. "Thank you, madam. May I take them from the room?"

She huffed, and said she thought not. He nodded again and - with a final thank you and little bow - went to find a seat and some parchment so he could copy the paged he thought most useful for Arthur to peruse.

Paper was easy to come by. There was a stack of it, all of it scrolled up and blank, in a corner of the rather large library. He was impressed. Another appeared as took one, so he took two. The paper quality was very high. He would try to find a different kind to write eight essays. He didn't want to waste the school's good paper. It didn't take long to find some good maps, though he really didn't recognize anything of any of them. He felt rather stupid, but he did take heart in the fact that it might not even be his lack of knowledge. It could just as easily be the changing of the times. He was positive it was truly centuries into the future.

Merlin laid a sheet of paper carefully over the page and quietly whispered an incantation. Without even paying attention, he made sure no one had been watching him. He watched, pleased, as colors and lines sank into his page, blossoming and curling into an exact copy of the map beneath it. He did the same thing with several overs.

"Arthur?" he called into the room. He crept in, ducking low. He wasn't sure if his abrupt exit would warrant more thrown dishes. "Arthur I have lunch, and maps."

Arthur looked up, tilted his head and smirked. "Excellent. Let’s sit and look them over while we eat."

"I don't recognize them.” He felt his cheeks heat just a little. 

"Of course you don't that's why I'm here. Come on, Merlin, lay them out."

Merlin did as he was told, sighing as he sat down beside Arthur and watched him look over the sheets. Merlin had been hoping it wouldn't carry over when he'd made the copies, but it seemed the magic of the moving pictures had done just that. It was quite obviously agitating Arthur, too. Or maybe it was that he couldn't recognize a thing himself. That would be worth agitation too.

"So..... What can you see, sire?"

"Don't _rush_ me, Merlin. It can take some time. Eat something why don't you."

Merlin pulled his plate over and picked at his meal. "Can I ask you something?" He said.

"Really, Merlin, can you understand anything? I said not now."

"Yeah, sure. Can I ask you later?"

Arthur sighed, a full bodied expression that had his head drooping and shoulders sagging as well. He glanced at Merlin over his shoulder. 

"Why. Not." He said. Merlin took it anyway. Arthur turned back to examining his maps. "I just wish I had a looking glass. I need this part larger." He tapped the map and it sprang into action. The location, and about an inch radius around it, started growing until it was the size of the original map. Merlin watched fascinated, a bit of food falling back into his plate.

" _Witchcraft_!" Arthur said, standing abruptly instinctively. Merlin looked up at him without moving his head.

"Really? I hadn't guessed. I thought you said you could handle the magic maps?"

Arthur glowered silent and sat back down. Arms that had been leaning on the table and paper stayed carefully at his sided as he peered over the newly grown section.

"I can handle them." He ground out. "And I found Camelot. Well, what should be Camelot." He swallowed. "Their world is. Far bigger than ours." He took a breath, then another.

Merlin abruptly dropped his bowl to break the tension. It worked; Arthur looked over at him, smirking. "You really are an idiot."

"Guess so. Is it close?"

"It's not even marked. None of the nearby lands are. Nothing of the markings I recognize. It's like an entirely different land that's just,” He waved a hand jerkily. “Shaped like ours." He sighed deeply. "I think, your sorcerers out there, they may have been telling the truth. Camelot... is gone."

Merlin felt his stomach drop, despite the fact that he really had expected as much. He knew that Camelot would be gone by now. Everyone he knew was long dead, he would never see them again and the likelihood that they even had a grave to visit was nil. But hearing Arthur say it was somehow so much worse.

Arthur was a hard man to change the mind of. He'd be thinking about these things now too. He'd be wondering what must have happened- how much he must have failed, for Camelot to no longer exist. Merlin didn't know how to tell him it was probably quite the opposite.

Well, not without revealing himself (he really, _really_ wanted to) which he simply couldn't do. Even if Arthur had acknowledged that something the magic folk here said was true. Maybe he'd believe him. 

"...Arthur."

"We need to find a way back, Merlin. There has got to be a way back." Maybe the only way back would require Merlin to do quite a lot of magic anyway.

"Yeah, I'll... look into it."

"The future is full of magic." Merlin blinked, and looked over to him.

"Yes. To be honest, the past was full of magic. It seemed that only the present had a problem with it."

"My Father failed. I failed. I must have." Arthur didn’t seem to hear him. Merlin looked over at him. He looked lost. Merlin left the room; he didn't even seem to notice.

He slipped down the long, lonely corridors. The students were all at lunch, or some other secluded location. Merlin adjusted his black cloak over his coat. He peeked in the Great Hall, saw them all chatting and eating together. He felt a painful jab of jealousy in his gut and squashed it. The loneliness was harder.   
Merlin looked around, spotting the people he'd seen in class; Hermione was there with her friends. They were whispering together, one large rolling group of black and red and gold, smiles and comfortable words. He spotted the boys he saw in potions. The royal one and his thuggish companions. The knightly one, nearby and stately, talking quietly with other people from his class. 

The Professors were all in front, talking familiarly with one another, Professor Dumbledore in the center on a splendid throne of a chair. It was then that Merlin wondered what his place was in this world. Has they been taken in by the king of magic? He tore his eyes away and slipped out again, his nerve gone.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. "I'd been waiting for you to show up, Merlin." Blaise said softly. "Where have you been? Aren't you hungry?"

"O-oh. I eat in my room." Merlin turned to face him. His elegant face passively curious as usual. Merlin thought a moment. This was the first person who'd made it so clear to him.

"Really? I would like that luxury once in a while. It's noisy in there, however necessary."

"Very noisy. I could bring meals to you, if you want."

"What are you, a house elf?" Merlin snorted, and forced a smile. It felt rather fake. More so when Blaise raised his dark eyebrows at him. "Could I ask you something?"

"Yes, you may."

"The, um, person with my name-" he was guessing here, "He's from Camelot, right?"

Blaise nodded. 

"Could you tell me the story?"

This seemed to truly pique Blaise's interest. "Sure. I suppose I could do that. Though it's not exactly a single story- Merlin has many stories." Merlin nodded, vigorously, wide eyed and hopeful.

"I just, have only heard bad things, you know. About magic, magic people."

"I can understand your interest. Let’s not talk here, however; it's rather bothersome to stand." Merlin nodded again, but he wasn't really sure where to take him. Had he been home, he could just take him to his room. But Arthur was there. Moping. About his failure to squash magic out of society. An idea struck. 

"Here, I'll show you to the kitchens! It's a quiet place to eat too. They have chairs." Blaise tilted his head, brown lips quirked up, very pleased with this suggestion.

“Lead the way,”

Merlin was a ball of nervous energy as he showed him down a floor, to the painting. He was both excited, and terrified of the story. What if _he_ overthrew Arthur, or something? What if... He didn't even know. He doubted he would ever do something like that, and sure it might even be a happy story, but he couldn’t help the trepidation.

Blaise actually laughed, though quietly, when he tickled the pear into a doorknob, and Merlin couldn't help but grin in return. He pulled the door open and let them both in. House elves swarmed them, as they did every time Merlin came in.

"Hello, sirs! Do you need more food for your master?" Merlin smiled at the house elf who had asked, and shook his head. 

"No, I'm quite alright. Just a tea... maybe? Erm, and he might like something."

"Master?"

"Tea is fine." Blaise said. He looked around for the seats and found the little table. 

Merlin came over and sat with him. "So. Camelot."

Blaise nodded. "Yes. Merlin's rise to power." His heart stopped. "Or perhaps, more traditionally, King Arthur's"

Blaise told him about the legendary King and his incredible kingdom; the land of Albion that stretched across Britain and Ireland, Iceland and further, names that Merlin didn't recognize but sounded huge. He told him the adventures of the king, his knights, his sorcerer. The magic in Albion, and how Arthur had brought it back. The creatures they fought, the people they helped. Adventures and tragedy and romance. The sheer power of Merlin, rivaled only by Mordred.

The final battle of King Arthur with Sir Mordred, where he killed Mordred but-

"Stop! Stop it, please stop it." Merlin said, his voice ragged, eyes wide. "Please do not say he dies. Do not say it."

Blaise appraised him, closing his mouth thoughtfully. Merlin was engaged in the story as if he were a child, hearing it for the first time and unable to differentiate it from the distant past and his own reality. It was odd, for the most part because Merlin was not a child. He seemed a rather intelligent individual, from all Blaise had gleaned actually.

Merlin's shoulders sagged as Blaise stayed silent. He looked down, face pained, and breathing a little erratic. Far too upset for a story.

"I suppose you would have a rather close story for you, as your home is in a pre-Merlin shambles itself."

Merlin blinked at him, looking so confused. "Is that a term? Do people say pre-Merlin?"

"On occasion. The name is used as an explicative at times as well."

"It- what?! Really?"

"I do not kid."

"Explicative?"

"As in, if I may demonstrate, 'Merlin, that's brilliant'." He said is such a way (calmly with a touch of amusement) that Merlin laughed.

"No way." Blaise nodded.

"They don't talk of King Arthur as much, but I believe Muggles do."

"Muggles are the non-magic ones, right?" Blaise laughed a little, and nodded. 

"Yes, that would be them. You could ask a mudblood about it, they might know a little more of their take on him. I mean, Arthur might as well have built the Muggle British Empire into what it is today."

"...I- might- what's a mudblood?" He sounded beyond confused by the term, and Blaise blinked, not even realizing he'd spoken it.

"Ah. A muggle born. A magical child, with no magical blood in their family history."

"Why... is that mud?"

"It's an expression. I'll admit it's a rather rude one. I've unfortunately gotten into the habit of using it, as it was the password for a good portion of last year." He sits back with a short sigh, taking a sip of his tea. "I tend not to be quite as rude as a general rule."

"...right."

"Since we're on the topic, do you have magical blood in your family?"

"Of course not," was the first thing out of his mouth. For a moment, he looked stiff, and a little alarmed at the implication. Then he scoffed suddenly, and relaxed again. "Well. Sorry- yes, my father was sort of. But I don't know if it counts, so..."

"If he was, then he was. It's considered a good thing here- there's no need to worry, Merlin."

Merlin smiled, a little twitchily at him. "Yes, I know- thanks. It's just habit. I could get executed for that back home. Probably."

"Executed?" Blaise said eyebrows tight. "That's rather old fashioned."

"It's awful." Merlin grumbled, looking down at his tea.

"I agree."

They were silent for a time, Blaise not sure what else to tell him, and Merlin absorbing everything.

"I'm. Going to go to my room. Thank you, Blaise." Merlin grinned at him, for real this time. "A lot. Thank you, a lot." Blaise nodded, even smiled a little.

Merlin wandered down the halls thinking about the stories. He hoped they'd have the effect he was looking for.

"Arthur?" The man was sprawled on the bed, staring up at the canopy. "Arthur, I need to talk to you. I found some things out."

"What's the point?" Arthur said. His voice was low and flat.

"Well, it's about you."

"Really." He looked over at least. Merlin smiled hopefully at him.

"Arthur, no one even remembers any other king of Camelot but you. You are a legend, a hero."

Arthur stared at him, not really looking as excited or relieved as Merlin had hoped he would be. "Really now." He said flatly, looking for all the world like this was an insult, instead of a compliment. "They all treat me as a hero, for losing my grip on the kingdom and letting magic fester within my people? I suppose they call me 'King Arthur, the last king of Camelot', because after that, it f-"

"Because after that, it was called Albion! The greatest kingdom in the land, stretching across the entire map we were looking at earlier. You paved the way to the future, and... brought... good magic, back... to the world." 

He knew he had to say it, but as he was doing so, he felt his chest constrict nervously. He wasn't expecting a good reaction from Arthur at all. Saying _he_ had brought magic back... It... might have been too much. Even if Merlin knew it to be his future; had known for a long time.

“Good magic.” Arthur repeated. “Alright, where are the records? Where there normal people in my puppet reign? Who was the mastermind behind this anyway? If this is their society they’d know, right? Well?”

Merlin stepped back at his vehemence, but stood tall. “You are such a prat! Your reign lasted decades! Honestly, centuries! You are the _only king people remember!”_

“ _I was a magic puppet king_!”

“ ** _You were the greatest king who ever lived you insufferable… clothead!_** ”

Arthur calmed again, though only slightly. “Clot head."

“Yes! You’re a clothead. You are an insufferable prick! And for your information, the only mage that was anywhere near your inner circle was-”

Merlin’s throat dried up. His stomach dropped, and he turned away abruptly. Arthur was quiet for a moment, while Merlin tried to calm his extreme panic.

“Was who, Merlin.”

“Never mind. Sorry, sire. An outburst like that will never happen again.”

A hand laid itself firmly on his shoulder. “Merlin. Who. Obviously I already know them, if you’re so worked up.”

Merlin turned to look at him, staring hard. Arthur stared back. Merlin opened his mouth, but he was trembling.

“Merlin.”

“Me.”


	5. In Essence, a Chess Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My apologies. Were you in anything what was... disbanded?"  
> "Hm, not particularly, but my friend has been complaining about the Quidditch team. And there is yet to be a Gobstones or Chess club again. Though I'm not a strict member, per say."  
> [Edited and re-uploaded]

Arthur blinked at Merlin. He didn’t seem to comprehend.

“You.” Merlin just stared. He felt paralyzed with fear, breath dragging barely and too loud. Arthur’s face was twisted, as it always was when he spoke of magic. Yet he felt lighter and freer than he has ever felt before. He found himself smiling, at though Arthur only asked if he really did accidentally dye everything blue.

“Yes.”

“Merlin? Have they enchanted you? You aren’t a sorcerer.”

His face dropped into one of annoyance. “Oh. Silly me, I forgot!” and with that statement of complete frustration, he wrenched himself away from Arthur and stormed out of the room again.

“Merlin!” he heard Arthur call after him, but he was ignored. He kept walking, as brisk and swift as he could manage without feeling that he was out right running away.

He couldn’t believe he’d done that. Of course Arthur would assume something stupid like that. And now he thought he was enchanted. Merlin wanted to go break something.

“Merlin!” he heard called again, and he turned a corner to the hallway. “Merlin, this is and order! Wait for me!”

Merlin froze realizing Arthur hadn’t just been calling after. He’d actually followed him out of the room. He turned to see Arthur catching up with him. The man was looking every which way very suspiciously.

“Merlin, you never listen to me anymore.”

“Put your dagger away, there are children here!” Merlin hissed.

“I’m protecting you.” Arthur had the nerve to sound affronted.

“From children.”

“From sorcerers who, it seems, have enchanted you.”

Merlin just looks at him, head tilted and skeptical. (He actually reminded Arthur of Gaius right then, but he felt it was better not to mention that right now.)

“Enchanted? Me? _No_. If you recall, I’m not the one with that unfortunate tendency.”

Arthur glared. “Well, I’m certainly not the one enchanted right now! I’m not claiming to be a future mage puppet master- thing!”

“You’re impossible! Arthur. You. _Urg_. Go back to the room; I’ll bring you dinner later.”

“Merlin, if you walk away right now, you’re fired.”

“Is there a problem here?”

“No.” Arthur said instantly, without looking.

Merlin looks over and blinked. “Professor,” he said. McGonagall raised a thin eyebrow.

“Indeed. What is going on?”

“Nothing. To worry about. We’re going back to our room.”

“Are you okay, Merlin?” she asked him.

He smiled at her. “Yes of course! I was just… A little frustrated. About. A conversation. Nothing to worry about, Professor.” He bowed his head a little at the ‘title’. Arthur stared at her, looking her up and down for signs of… Evil. Foul-play. Magery. It was bound to be somewhere.

But she just looked concerned. He saw her eyes flicker towards him and realized that she was concerned about the same thing he was; that this stranger was threatening Merlin. Then he felt Merlin tugging him by the wrist back where they came from. He looked to Merlin, and followed after a moment. When Merlin had pulled him back into the room, and closed the door behind him, he sagged against the door. Arthur had only seen him look so tired a few times.

“…Merlin.”

“I’m not enchanted, Arthur. I wish you’d just trust me.”

“Of course I trust you! It’s _them_ I don’t-”

“I’m _one_ of them, Arthur! You’re not listening to me.”

“You aren’t. You’re enchanted.”

“Which is stronger, Arthur? Your hatred of magic or your trust in me?”

“What kind of question is that?” Arthur said. He tossed his head and scoffed.

Merlin looked at him, dead serious and pleading, silently. His voice was strong. “Which is it? If… If your father condemned me to death for sorcery, but I was protecting the kingdom with magic- would you let me die?”

“Of course not!”

“Then if I show you magic, would you kill me?”

The question hung in the air as Arthur gaped at him.

“Would you?”

“Merlin, this is-”

“Answer, Arthur!”

“Stop interrupting _Mer_ lin!” Merlin stared petulantly instead. ”I will not kill you.”

Merlin nodded, still looking petulant. Then he brought his hand up very suddenly, pointed a little beyond Arthur, and he started reciting an incantation.

Arthur spun around, alarmed, only to see the candles lose their flames, the flickering lights floating upwards and off them, becoming tiny balls of fire in the air. They hovered there a mere moment, then began to dance with one another in midair.

“I’m a sorcerer, Arthur. Actually, a Warlock.”

Arthur stared at the dancing lights, delicate and beautiful in the air. “Merlin, stop that. Whatever they told you, this will only corrupt you.”

“Well, then I guess it’s corrupt to save your life.”

Arthur’s eye flicked over to him. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m your servant. Your friend. I would do anything for you.”

Arthur pursed his lips. “And it doesn’t matter what they told you! This is not the way!”

“Arthur, you’re not listening to me. I’ve been like this all along!” Merlin cried out in exasperation. He clenched a fist, and the fires went out instead of returning to their wicks. Arthur looked back at him, and Merlin gritted his teeth.

“I was born like this. The sorcerer in Ealdor was me, not Will. I have been doing magic when you weren’t looking to stop sorcerers and assassins alike from killing you and your family for years now. I just-” He sighs, loudly, and it sounds like he’s given up trying to explain. “You weren’t ready to hear it. If you’re going to kill me just do it.”

“I already said I wasn’t going to kill you.” Arthur said. “I will not go back on my word.”

Merlin looked surprised. “Oh! Thanks.”

Arthur nodded, and then slid down the wall to sit nearby. “So. You were born like this,” He waved his hand vaguely. Merlin nodded. “And you just use magic.” Another nod. “So you don’t ever feel any urges to, say, destroy things.”

“No more than you do- Actually, less than you do, I think.”

Arthur actually snorted in amusement. This could be progress. “And… you. Don’t have blackouts, or…”

“No! Magic isn’t evil. Just some of the people who wield it. And even then… From what I’ve seen everyone has a reason for what they do. Even if it’s almost always revenge.”

Merlin is sitting on the floor a ways away from Arthur, knees drawn up and still looking anything but comfortable.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Suddenly you accept revenge as a good reason.”

“No! But- It is their honest reason. Not blind evil, but sorrow. And anger. And justice.”

“Justice.”

“Their people, friends, family, children, were all murdered by Uther.” He couldn’t stop himself from spitting the name right then. “My father was put into exile. I didn’t even know him before he died.”

“Merlin, I’m sorry about your father, but there’s nothing that could be done. He probably earned-”

“Arthur. Please don’t. My father-” Merlin tensed and made a face, then sighed. “He was the last dragon lord. You met him.”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. “That was- how long did you know?”

“Just before we left to find him.” Merlin shrugged. “I was going to take him home. To see my mother. He’d done nothing, Arthur. Nothing. Your- The king tricked him, then hunted him down.”

Merlin was very quiet now as he spoke. He wasn’t quite looking at Arthur either, instead staring at his feet. He seemed resigned that he might just lose everything when this conversation was over. Sure, Arthur might not kill him but who knew what he would do. He could leave him here. Or exile him when they got back. Or tell his father. No matter what happened, Arthur would never trust him again.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s tone was deep and stern. “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

“Can you.”

“Yes. You’re rather dim and bad at hiding, well, anything. In fact, I’d say hiding this… magic was an exception, but you’re bad at that too. You’ve just gone and admitted it before. It’s a wonder you aren’t dead.”

Merlin made a face. “Well, I wasn’t about to let innocent people die for me.” It wasn’t meant as a sting, but Arthur felt is as one anyway. It was true. Innocents had died because of accusation of magic.

Arthur’s eyes widened. “Wait, the witch finder-”

“He was just a git. …But he caught on quickly. He was after Gaius, because he wanted to get back at him. But me and Morgana…”

“Did you know about Morgana?”

“…Yes. But she didn’t turn like that because of magic. You have to understand. It was hatred.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow briefly. This was an emotional time and a difficult topic but, “That was poetic.”

Merlin glared wearily. “Uther’s hate of magic drove her away. Her hate of Uther turned her against all of us. But,”  
Arthur.  
You cannot hate her.  
You must pity her.”

Arthur gave him an odd look. Merlin looked despairingly serious. “Her own fear and hate consumed her. She used to be so kind, but she even betrayed herself.”

“Merlin, she tried to kill us all.”

“I know. Once, she told me – when I was stopping her – that I would ‘never understand what it felt like, to fear, and be disgusted by who you are, and… be completely alone, having to hide yourself, or be killed by the very people you called family’.”

“…Are you trying to make a point, Merlin?”

“That’s how she felt. That’s why she hated your father so much. Pity her.”

Arthur opened his mouth. Then stopped and shook his head.

“What do you want me to do Merlin? What you are suggesting is that the king, my father-”

“Is a good king, a little harsh, with everything but judging magic.” Merlin said. “But you, you will be a _great_ king.” Arthur saw that reverence in his eyes again. That look that made him one part proud, but two parts nervous. “Hopefully in everything?”

Arthur stared at Merlin. He was finally looking back, and he seemed so vulnerable, staring at him, watching him for the moment when he dashed every hope he’d been waiting for since the moment they had known each other, probably.

“I don’t know Merlin. I just-”

Merlin sighed. “Don’t worry about it now. I- I have to go, though.”

Merlin stood, looking very much like he wanted to curl up and collapse in on himself. He started walking to the door instead.

“To- learn magic.” Arthur said. Merlin stopped, looked back at him again with a weak smile.

“Yes. To learn magic. While I can.”

“I see.” Arthur stood and brushed himself off, though there was no dirt or dust. “Right. You should tell me about it when you return.”

“…I should?”

“Yes. If I am to give this… magic thing a chance, I’ll need to know about it, won’t I? I’m not saying I _will_ , ultimately.”

Merlin smiled so bright Arthur thought he’d go blind. Perhaps he’s enchanted his face. That isn’t normal. “Yes! I’ll tell you about it. May I work in here? They assign homework.”

“Homework.”

“Problems to test your comprehension.” Merlin explained.

“…Excellent.” Merlin gave him one last grin and turned back to the door. “Oh, one more thing.”

“Yes sire?”

“What was it you wanted to ask me earlier?”

Arthur quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head at the sudden blush. “Oh. I. Wanted to ask if. You could teach me to write.”

Arthur blinked at him. "You... oh. Of course. Why do you need to?"

"They want me to write for the homework, I don't know that I really can." Merlin made a face, but Arthur shrugged.

"Why not. I'll teach my manservant how to write, this is the least odd thing I've agreed to today." He sighed, but couldn't help an amused smirk in Merlin's direction. "Off you go then. I'll teach you when you're back."

He was beamed at again, and then Merlin scurried from the room. He ran into McGonagall very soon after, and it was obvious she was waiting for him to check if he was alright.

"Oh. Hello, Professor."

She nodded curtly to him. "Merlin. Are you alright? I am aware of the circumstances that brought you here. If you feel you are in danger..."

Merlin smiled at her. "Thank you professor. But this day is the best day ever. I'm fine. Everything is fine."

She looked rather confused by this statement. He just beamed at her. "It's better than fine, in fact! Everything is amazing. I've got class now though. Where are the 'green houses'? I'm not sure I saw any house that color when I was coming here."

McGonagall decided to take his word for it, and just laughed softly at the question. "I will show you. They are outside."

The Greenhouses turned out not to be green at all, but rather glass, and full of green _things_. Specifically, all the things that would make Gaius die happy if he could live in there. Merlin chuckled in amusement at this concept, in far too good a mood to even be down about missing him. Hermione sat beside him, looking curious.

"You seem rather pleased."

"I am!" He informed her with a grin.

"Can I ask why? Did something good happen?"

"I talked to Arthur," Merlin explained in a hush. "He didn't even seem to contemplate killing me! And he wants to hear about," he waved a hand. "All this."

"...I'm glad he didn't try to kill you, Merlin." He beamed at here, then his eyes locked on the short lady as she entered. She reminded his just a tiny bit of Gaius's ladyfriend.

And when she spoke, it was clear she was the teacher. He turned to her, to pay her such rapt attention; even Hermione was a little surprised. Ron and Harry had settled with her, and mostly looked amused. Professor Sprout was very nice to Merlin, though she, unlike any teacher before, had asked him to stand up and introduce himself to the class. He did so a little awkwardly, and ignored the snickers because now he understood exactly why they were all giving him such odd looks about his name.

At some point during class, he heard a student in front of him mutter " _Merlin_ , this is hard. I can't believe we still have to do this." Merlin actually giggled as he continued pruning his plant cheerfully.

Hermione glanced over at this and smiled faintly. "I'm afraid you'll have to get used to that."

"Oh, yes I'd heard." He laughed softly again. "I really am just named for the bird, though. Poor bird, all over shadowed like that."

Ron snorted. His plant took offense and smacked Harry. Harry gave them both a dirty look. Merlin was used to tending to plants though and, while this was not his area of interest, he did his best while the teacher talked. After that class, there was just one more before dinner: History of Magic. He had to say, he was really looking forward to it.

Ron gave him the most pitying look when he voiced this.

Merlin laughed, but looked confused. "What? I really am. I know nothing of magical history, so-"

"I felt the same way, my first year." Harry said sympathetically. Hermione huffs at them.

"Really! Stop it, he's not that _bad_."

"I'm a bit confused."

"The teacher," Ron said. "He is as dull as _bones_."

"Bones are dull?"

"Alright, bad metaphor. But really. Dry and boring. You'll be asleep in moments."

Merlin laughed and said "I'm sure I've stood through more boring speeches."

"Just you wait." Ron said.

The room was a bit funny compared to the other rooms. It was a double class again, these student red, like always, or yellow. Some seemed resigned to boredom and were already doodling, or fluffing up cloaks to use as pillows. Others looked iffy, but had quills ready. Hermione got ready as normal. Harry looked among the iffy. Ron went to sleep right there.

Merlin settled in his desk. It was still a bit of a funny arrangement to him. Small desks and hard chairs all in a grid like this. He settled his pack next to him and leaned forward on his arms.

“Do you need parchment?” he heard Hermione say.

“Oh. I haven’t learned to write yet, I’m afraid.” He grins lopsided at her. Her eyebrows dipped and furrowed; she opened her mouth, and Merlin gasped.

“Look!” He hissed. “Look! A spectre!”

Hermione giggled. He heard Harry snort ahead. “Oh, it’s okay, Merlin. That’s the teacher.”

“He’s dead!”

“He never noticed. He’s not hurt.”

Merlin was positively fascinated by this. He tried to ask her questions about it, but ended up just falling silent because the ghost began to speak. Ron started snoring a little bit in. Harry started drooling on his notes. Hermione was impressed that Merlin's eyes didn't start drooping until he was almost done with the day's lecture. He was out of it when she tried to talk to him afterwards, though.

"No, I don't think I could concentrate on writing and listening." He told her out of nowhere. "I'd get lost, give up, and sleep."

"Oh. Well, how will you remember it otherwise?"

"I've never forgotten anything yet!" he said, and grinned.

"Oh, okay." she looked skeptical. "Well, if you want to look over notes, you may ask me."

He nodded and thanked her. She smiled back. He seemed to stand there for a moment, zoning out, before suddenly coming back to life with a huge face splitting grin.

"I should get Arthur dinner. The dollophead's probably restless."

"What’s a dollophead?" Hermione asked, bewildered.

"In two words; Prince. Arthur."

He was so excited when he ran off; he didn't even realize he'd announced Arthur's Princehood to anyone who was listening. Merlin just really wanted to get back to their room. Hermione glanced over to Harry and Ron. Ron was still waking up, but Harry's dark eyebrows were furrowed. She held a finger to her lips and whispered "Secret."

He nodded slowly.

"Arthur!" Merlin swung the door open magically, both arms loaded with plates. "I accidently let on to the staff that it was a good day and they said it was a celebration! I can't carry everything for long."

He laughed, and nearly toppled under the plates.

"Good god." Arthur said. He was, admittedly, rather amused though, and actually went to help him. Although there was no need for secrecy here, Arthur did not ask until the door was closed, "Why couldn't you just... use magic to balance them?"

Merlin blinked. "Actually, I could have." Arthur glared. Merlin grinned back, still seeming too blinding to be true. "But I guess it's just a habit, I mean, I never could before, but I can now." He bounced, and sat beside Arthur at the table. "Also I had a magical history class today! I remember most of it, because I only nodded off at the end."

"Merlin. Why am I not surprised you were falling asleep in your classes?" Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head in annoyance.

"No! I was good; the rest of the class was asleep the first five minutes. He really was just that boring."

"...right then. So." He cleared his throat, and started digging into the food. "Tell me about it."

Merlin nodded. And cleared his throat. He pulled himself up on Arthur's bed.

"Well." He started. Arthur watched him. "I started with a potions class. It's not far off from the physician's craft, actually. The magic just makes it more potent."

"I'm going to assume you weren't mixing poisons." Arthur said as an attempt at a joke. Merlin pouted at him.

"No. It was a sleeping drought. Not unlike what Gaius used to make for Morgana. I worked with another boy. He was as regal as you can be. But nicer. He actually told me about, well. Us. The stories. He'd been told them when he was little." Merlin still looked bewildered that stories were told about him. It still didn't feel quite true. He thought he'd live and die in obscurity at Arthur's side.

The look Arthur was giving him made him think he'd said that out loud. Merlin flushed, and coughed. Arthur raised his eyebrows high, and crossed his arms. 

"Merlin. You are _nothing_ like obscure. You'd sooner fall on your face into a feast table then bow out into obscurity. What are you talking about?"

Merlin shrugged, shooting a look of flustered annoyance to Arthur for the comment. "Yes, well, that has nothing to do with what I meant."

Arthur snorted. "What exactly did you mean?"

"Just..... I thought I'd stay your servant. Or something. You know."

"Do you think I'm going to fire you? I thought I said 'manservant' earlier. Didn't I?"

"No, you did." Merlin said. "It just still seems unreal. Are you real?"

Arthur tilted his head forward, giving Merlin a look. "Yes, Merlin, I am."

"Well, excellent! First step to being a great teacher, you know."

 It took Arthur a very long moment to even realize what he was talking about. After he has though, and Merlin wiped the annoying (and still far too bright) grin from his face (he actually doesn’t. Arthur just gave up trying to make him) they finished dinner and began to work.

Arthur gave him directions on how to write official court documents, since he assumed that was what he wanted. Merlin soaked up the knowledge with an alarming vigor. Unfortunately, he didn’t have nearly as much stamina for it. He became very tired of writing very, very quickly and moaned that he didn’t think he can _do_ eight of them.

Arthur was exasperated. "Really, Merlin. You're the one who was so inclined to do all this in the first place! You could at least pretend you consider it worth-while."

Merlin sighed. "And I have to get paper somewhere. The stuff I used for the maps is far too high quality for me."

"Really. Well, I have to admit that it was alright paper. You have my permission to use my name to take more, if need be."

Merlin looked confused, then faintly surprised at the offer. He sat just a little straighter like he did when he was paying attention to something in particular. "Thank you, sire."

Arthur shrugged. "I want to know what you're writing, by the by."

"Oh, it won't be that enjoyable. I think there's a pixie in human form causing trouble for fun." Merlin said. With prompting, he started writing again, messy but careful. "She's having everyone read this book of diluted theory, and not practice." He peaked at Arthur. "Not practicing is bad, I think you know."

Arthur made a face. "Who knows, in the case of magic?" Merlin laughed.

"It's bad." Arthur swatted him upside the head with a huff.

"So if there's a pixie, does that mean something unpleasant is going to happen?" He was obviously trying to be conversational, despite how uncomfortable he must be. Merlin felt his chest swell with unbridled delight at just how hard Arthur was trying.

"I don't know." He responded, but it sounded far, far too gleeful. It sounded quite like he hoped something bad would happen. It was obvious from Arthur's expression, he certainly thought so. Merlin just grinned up at him.

 "Tell me, Merlin, what happens when a pixie causes trouble?"

"Last time, you nearly married a fairy. And a princess ate a toad."

"...Eww.” Arthur scrunched up his nose and then peeked over Merlin’s shoulder. “Hmm, you're spelling is perfectly fine."

"I can _read_ , you know."

 Arthur laughed in a way that tells Merlin quite clearly that he was surprised. Merlin shot him a look that told Arthur to shut it.

Arthur leaned over the chair behind him, watching Merlin work. "So there's no chance of anything like that happening again? Are you sure?"

"Not at all, really. But she's an instructor here- I can't just out her; it'd be like accusing a knight or something."

Arthur looks mildly scandalized. "Instructors have the status of knights?"

"They have titles. And people are viewed according to a variety of things, including their blood and skill."

"Go on." 

"...People with magic, but no magical heritage are looked down on."

This didn't seem to sit well with Arthur. "Really now."

"Yes, it’s rude to call attention to it though, from what I've heard." Merlin pulled away from his work again with a sigh. This was hard and he was getting a headache. "I'll do more of this later; I don't think I need to give it to her for another day and a half."

Arthur arched his eyebrows high. "Merlin. Finish it now."

Merlin groaned. He mumbled insults about how Arthur was encouraging his magic studies. Arthur gave him a dirty look and swatted him. "Write. Now. Or I'll have you writing up speeches for me."

"I'll have you saying silly things."

But he wrote, carefully translating thoughts to clumsy scribbles. He was getting better with every word. And not much later, he'd finished his first essay.

"Well would you look at that!" He held it out for Arthur's approval.

Arthur's lip twitched, just taking the terrible handwriting and the pride Merlin had for it. It was amusing. But he let his eyes roam over the words Merlin had written, feeling so odd, reading about magic. But he could.... deal. With it. He had to be able to, if he was keeping his word to Merlin. It wasn't too bad, anyway. It was a book, apparently, centered on the avoidance of using magic outside of dire situations rather than one teaching you how. He frowned at the words written at the top.

"Merlin, is this a _dark arts_ class?"

"No. what?" Marlin looked at his sheet and made a little 'oooh' of understanding. He put the paper back down and scribbled something in front of the title, cramped between the title and the edge of the paper. Then he grinned sheepishly at Arthur again. "No, it's a _defense against_ the dark arts class. Like, defense against dark magic. I'm actually a little disappointed the pixie is messing it up. It would have been such a useful thing to learn about."

 "I'd think so," Arthur muttered. "It's the only sort of magic that goes on in Camelot, after all." 

"I don't do dark arts." Merlin said, but he didn't really sound interested in the conversation. He was checking for any other places he managed to leave words out. "My writing is awful. I can hardly read this."

"And that," Arthur put another piece of paper on top of the sheet he was looking at. "Is why you are now going to rewrite it."

"What?!" Merlin stared. "But I just finished!"

"An unreadable document is a useless document."

Merlin outright glared at him, but grumpily gets out another piece of parchment to start again. "I don't have to think it over again, right? I can just copy it?"

"Unless you think the document's contents needs work too. It could. You're rather incompetent Merlin."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Well sire, I don't know how to react to such kind words. I'll just copy this over."

"Legibly, Merlin."

"Yes, I got it! Legibly."

He was much quicker the second time, the letters clearer and much easier to understand. And when he was finished, Arthur deemed it acceptable.

"Now what is your second one?" he asked. 

"Oh, same but, next part. Or I could do the transformation homework. Wait. Uh, transfiguration. That was it."

"...Which is it." 

"I think one is a subcategory of the other. It's just, new word, new magic. You know. Well, no, you don't."

Arthur sighs and sits down on the bed. "How much of this magic work do you even _have_?"

"A lot. I'll probably get more. They're testing my comprehension, remember?"

"Why not just put you into a practice battle?" Merlin glanced over at him and laughed, realizing that Arthur was probably trying to equate all this to his knight training.

"It's not battle magic. It's just.... turning things to other things." Merlin brightened, grinning and so happy he could actually tell him about this. "I learned to turn a match into a needle!"

"What in all the five kingdoms is a _match_? Because I'm hoping you don't mean a duel."

"I don't know exactly. But I can turn it into a needle."

"How is that even useful! Can you turn it back?"

"I don't know. And yes, I can." He sounded proud again. This really was is thing, his element. Arthur had never seen him like this before.

"Alright, I have a needle, make this match thing." He pulled it out of his pouch and gave it to Merlin. “I'm sure I can figure out what it is then."

"Why do you have a needle?"

"Emergencies."

"Are you _sure_ you're Prince Arthur?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

" _Medical_ emergencies."

"I'm a little more concerned with you wanting me to cast magic."

"I _did_ promise, Merlin. Now stop stalling and make this match thing."

Merlin stared at him for a long moment, before turning to the needle. This was easy; he knew he could do this. But the pressure suddenly seemed so high. This wasn't like when he was making the fire dance. Arthur was asking him to do this. He glanced at him again, then back at the needle. Arthur raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I'm waiting, Merlin. If you can't do it, you should just say."

"I can do it!" Merlin huffed, and took a breath. He didn't bother with the wand this time, there was no need and it only made it harder anyway. He just whispered the spell under his breath and let the magic flow out of his palm.

The little silvery needle morphed into the soft brown stick with a red tip.

"That's a match. I really have no idea what it is." He looked to Arthur, very, very nervous.

 Arthur held out his hand, palm up, expectantly, so Merlin gave it to him. 

"I don't know if it's magic either." He warned. "I just have no idea. Except that they come in boxes. Little, sort of paper boxes."

"Interesting," Arthur said, turning the twig over in his fingers. He tapped it and played with it. It broke very quickly, stem bending and head disintegrating. "Well, it's not very sturdy, whatever it is. Can I have my needle back, now?"

 "Arthur, you broke it what makes you think I can turn it back?" Arthur made a noise of outrage, but settled, realizing that Merlin was grinning at him teasingly.

He took the broken twig and placed it down. Putting his hand over it again, he whispers a longer, much more magic-like incantation which mends the match. Then he reversed the spell. A needle, just as it had been before, waits on the table for Arthur's inspection. He stared at it then picked it up to examine it. Then he cleared his throat.

"Well, outside of the fact that this is a completely useless parlor trick that was. Impressive. In a useless way."

"Impressive."

"I will not repeat myself."

"In a useless way."

"What? You don't even know what it is. _Have_ you learned anything useful here?"

"Wingardium Leviosa." Everything in the room began to hover. Including Arthur. Who all but squealed, sending Merlin into peals of laughter as everything landed back on the ground gently.

Arthur clutched at his chest, breathing hard and looking irate. " ** _Merlin_**!"

Merlin continued to laugh, only stopping when Arthur had marched over to him, and hauled him up by the shirt collar and glared. Merlin stifled his amusement enough to speak, trying to wiggle out of Arthur's grip.

"Your voice, you have no idea how brilliant."

"Are you _trying_ to make me go back on my word?! That was-"

"A perfect way to stop an assassin. I know. It would throw anyone off guard."

He sputtered and dropped Merlin. "Really."

"You'd be amazed how surprised people get, when they are suddenly levitated." Merlin said, grinning. Arthur sighed.

"Just, one thing. Are you going to be insufferable?"

"Am I not normally? I need to work harder."

"I'll take that as a yes. Do your next writing, Merlin."

Merlin seemed much less pleased with this. "Fine. But I'm doing the transfiguration one."

"What _ever_ , Merlin. Just do something before I get tired of your presence."

Merlin just grinned at him, and started work again. He was still just so pleased with himself. So pleased with Arthur. He was wrong, Arthur obviously was ready. Everything was great. A little bit after Arthur made Merlin rewrite that essay too, he said he was tired, and it was late. He ordered them both to bed.

  
The next day was exciting again, Merlin becoming more adept at finding thing, and quickly catching up on the material he’d lacked from the previous years. Blaise was casually waiting for him in the kitchens when he arrived to fetch Arthur’s lunch the next afternoon.

 "Oh, hello! I didn't expect you."

"You show me this perfectly private place where I may eat whatever I please, and you don't expect me to return?" Blaise sounded amused. “I am a hungry man, you know. You may expect me all the time.” Merlin grinned and snickered. 

"When you put it like that," he said. "Anyway, thank you for earlier. I appreciate it. "

"Certainly. I'm sure you'd do the same for me." If Merlin could tell he was testing the waters, he didn't let on.

"Of course!"

Blaise smiled, long eyes lowered like a content cat. Merlin grinned back, and then turned to the house elves and asked for two lunches. They seemed quite pleased to go off and get some for him, and after a moment, he called after for them to add a little bit of what Merlin was sure was Arthur's favorite food.

"Something you're fond of?"

"No, but Arthur is." Merlin told him cheerfully, sitting down in one of the chairs near him and watching the elves. Blaise looked at him curiously, not really sure what to say to that. Merlin hadn't even noticed he'd slipped up again. 'Arthur' was hardly an uncommon name after all. It shouldn't have meant anything.

"Arthur is.... your master, you were talking about earlier?" Merlin blinked, looking over. 

"Oh! Yes. He's staying in the room."

"....I see."

Merlin beams. "I'm bring him lunch, but considering everything, he might actually come and get it himself soon."

"How lazy he must be."

"Very, very lazy." Merlin said. "But that isn't the issue. He just has. Had a problem with magic, but he's actually rethinking it and asking me to _do_ magic!"

Blaise nodded, as though impressed, but he looked skeptical. "That's good, I suppose. You are in a school of magic, after all."

Merlin was sitting on his hands in some attempt to quell his energy, but it wasn’t really working and he bounced in his seat. "Yes, but that doesn’t mean much to him, he thought the children were going to kill him."

"Did he really." Blaise sounds a little skeptical, but mostly amused.

Merlin laughs and nods. "Yes. He really did. He thought you'd all enchanted me too, but he's just a suspicious prat sometimes. He's... really coming round."

"And how have you been? I hadn't had the chance to ask."

"Me? Fine, thank you. Frustrated over the governing of the school, but I suppose being in a private room, you don't see that."

"What happened?"

"What hasn't? Have you had any defense against the dark arts' classes yet?" Merlin nodded. "The teacher is a member of the Ministry, and is working as its arm within the school."

"Oh, politics."

"Yes, politics. She's put forward several rather restrictive rules in place. Recently, all our clubs have been disbanded."

Merlin cocked his head. "Disbanded... clubs..."

The complete lack of comprehension gave Blaise pause. He wondered how to explain it.

"...Clubs are like, gatherings of people with like-interests. They come together at agreed upon times, and practice their interests amongst each other."

"...Oh. They don't have much like that where I come from."

"I suppose they wouldn't, considering." Merlin looked curious at the comment, but Blaise didn't seem inclined to explain himself further. "It means that if you want to do anything fun here, you must speak to Umbridge first. It's restricting. A power play."

"...Ah. Is your rule an oppressive one?"

"At times."

 "My apologies. Were you in anything what was... disbanded?"

"Hm, not particularly, but my friend has been complaining about the Quidditch team. And there is yet to be a Gobstones or Chess club again. Though I'm not a strict member, per say."

"What're those?" Blaise smirked a little, eyebrows up. 

"Games, Merlin. Shall I teach you-?" They heard the door open. Merlin was on his feet in an instant and standing, to Blaise's slight annoyance and flattery, between him and whoever just came in.

"Oh! Potter, hello." Merlin grinned at Harry.

Harry blinked at him, looking rather surprised to see him there. "Oh. Hello, Merlin. How did you find the kitchens so quickly? You've only been here a few days."

Ron and Hermione were coming in, and Hermione brightened at the sight of him, while Ron darkened as the only one to notice Blaise behind Merlin. 

Merlin grinned, relaxing and stepping over to them. "I was shown it, so I could get food, for me and my master." One of the house elves, hearing him, called out apologetically that they were almost done, sir! Sorry for the wait, sir. 

Ron elbowed Harry as Blaise crossed his arms to watch. "There's a Slytherin in here." He hissed.

 "Oh, yes there is!" Blaise said, voice strong and somewhat mocking. "And a good deal of Gryffindors. Considering we're at Hogwarts, I find it hard to be surprised."

Ron glared. "What are you up to?"

"Corrupting the youth." Blaise said at the same time Merlin said. "Telling me about games." Merlin had the good graces to look sheepish what Blaise glared death at him.

" _Power play_ games." Blaise clarified.

"...yes. Those." Merlin said with a cough. Hermione put a hand over her mouth, though she wasn't sure if she was trying not to laugh or what. This was a Slytherin, after all. Slytherins really tended to hate them.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Right. Well, are you quite done? We—"

"We were looking for Merlin." Ron interrupted, staring daggers at Blaise. "We need to talk to him privately." Blaise's eyes narrowed, obviously not pleased that they were trying to dismiss him.

"I'm hardly about to listen to your orders. I was in the process of conversation."

"'Corrupting the youth.',"

"Exactly,"

"We can keep talking in a moment," Merlin said. "I'll be back." he turns to the other three. "We'll step outside a moment?"

"We could talk in here if he'd go away." Ron grumbled. Harry was still looking for their real target. 

"Dobby! Dobby, can I talk with you, too, please?" Harry asked, glancing sidelong at Blaise. Blaise sat there, looking unimpressed. One of the house elves looked over and squeaked when he saw Harry.

"Merlin," Blaise whispered while they were distracted. Merlin walked over. "They are going to say rude things about me. Would you mind not giving a wit?" Merlin laughed, breathless with the effort of keeping quiet.

"I make my own judgments, don't worry."

"Oh. So you won't listen if I tell you they're all lunatics? Because they are."

Merlin laughed just loudly enough that the other three noticed. "Nope. You know they're the ones that got me in here. I rather like them too." Blaise made a face, but nodded curtly.

"I suppose you'll learn of their lunacy in time, then."

" _Oi_!" Ron called over. Merlin just grinned and walked over to them. Harry led the house elf out with them. Hermione glanced back at Blaise curiously as they closed the door for some in the hall privacy.

"Bloody _hell_ what were you doing with a Slytherin?" Ron demanded of Merlin. Merlin blinked. 

"You actually wanted to talk to me? I thought you were just trying to get him out of there." 

Harry rolled his eyes, looking down at Dobby. "We _were_. Thanks for... cooperating, though."

Merlin laughs. "That's what I'm here for. I'm rather good at cover ups."

Harry nodded. "Yes, well. We should warn you, Slytherins rarely have anyone's good intentions but their own in mind."

Merlin nodded, that seemed normal enough. 

"He probably just wants you to help him with something."

"Possibly. I think it's more of an investment."

"You're oddly unbothered." Hermione cut in. "They really can be quite rude."

"Well, everything I do is to Arthur's benefit, so I think I could forgive him that."

Ron looked exasperated, but Harry's stopped paying attention, and was whispering with Dobby about a 'meeting place'. Merlin's curiosity was piqued. Mostly because he's pretty sure this is some continuation of that other secret meeting, except with an elf this time, instead of a crowd of people.

Hermione was glancing between him and Dobby, looking torn. She obviously wanted to talk to him about this new information, but she was also quite obviously invested in the 'meeting'.

"I'll go back inside," he said. "I want to finish talking anyway." Hermione smiled and nodded.

"Yes, of course. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

When Merlin sat back down at the table in the kitchen, now with meals, he expected Blaise to drill him on what happened.

"Have they bugged you enough then? Good. I want to arrange another meeting; I'll bring some games along and teach you to play."

Merlin blinked a few times, obviously a little surprised. Oh. Well, this was even better. "That sounds fantastic. Maybe I can get Arthur to come down too. Games are a great way to introduce children to things. It might work really well on him!"

Blaise thought about this and nodded. "If you can. I'm sure he'll be reluctant, from what you've told me." Merlin laughed, but nodded. He probably would be, yes.

"He might though. And I think you would be good for him to meet. You act like the people he's most used to."

 "I do?" He seemed genuinely confused. "Who on earth is he used to?" Merlin started laughing, chin tucked in a little. 

"Knights! Nobles, lords and the like."

"You think I'm knightly? Flattering. What do you want?" Merlin snickered. 

"Nothing! I promise. Still, I'll try to get him. When would you like to meet?"

"This weekend, lunchtime perhaps. We can figure it out as the day draws closer and we can meet here."

"Weekend...?"

"The, uh, end of a week. Saturday and Sunday. Day's we have off school." Blaise said uncertainly. 

"Oh, alright. Didn't know that was a thing for weeks." He smiled. "Weekend it is, then."

Blaise laughed softly, and nodded. "Agreed. You'll know when it starts, I hope."

"Yes, I'm sure I will." Merlin grinned back. Then he noted the food sitting there, cooling. "OH! But I should be getting back. Arthur will want this."

Blaise nodded, and watched him go. He wasn't quite sure what to think yet. This was troubling and probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened to him, all at the same time. He hoped it stayed that way and war came no closer.


	6. Glory Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of this story was written before I finished watching the fourth season, where it became apparent that Merlin could write (and was writing Arthur's speeches). Considering the time period, I assumed he wouldn't have learned much like that until he was staying with Gaius, even then, only reading the magic text and medicine names.
> 
> However, I'm sticking with that.

Merlin burst through the doors of the room, plates in hand and grinning.

"How would you like to learn about magic future childrens' games?"

"Merlin, what on earth are you babbling about."

"Magic future childrens’ games! Keep up, Arthur." He swung the laden plate in front of him and sat on the floor with his. "Do you want to learn to play them? You can meet someone."

"And you think this was a good idea." 

"They're children's games. I want to learn, too, and it seemed like a nice thing to show you."

Arthur was quiet for a moment, contemplative. He leaned down on his knees, head resting on his interlaced hands. 

"Fine."

Merlin grinned at him.

"Perfect. It'll be on the 'weekend'. That's the last two days of the week. Apparently all work halts on those days."

"..... Preposterous. How could that be?" Merlin shrugged and just began eating.

It was then Arthur noticed the special treat Merlin had asked for, and started eating as well, if a little less energetically than Merlin.

He was still trying to adapt to this new mindset he was trying to form. He was still trying to form a mindset to have. This was all so much for him to be taking in so quickly, too much for him to be accepting as readily as he was.

It put him on edge and made him dizzy from contemplation, and he couldn't bring himself to rethink, despite it all because he'd never seen Merlin happier.

This, of course, was a terrible reason to rethink his stance on such a dangerous topic. Merlin could be a pet of the magic, happy to serve it, and drag Arthur in too.

But Merlin insisted he trust him. That he not assume it was evil. Oh, strawberries! 

"Mmm. Good choice of food for once, Merlin."

 Merlin glanced up at him and smirked.

“Glad you like it, sire."

Arthur nodded, digging into his food further and finally deciding that he would worry about it later. He might as well enjoy what he could, given his circumstance.

Merlin was still eating when Arthur finished, but he still watched him with a (rather common these day) massive grin stretched across his lips. Arthur leaned back with a heaving sigh, hands on his belly.

"For being sorcerers, they have rather good food."

"The food isn't made by sorcerers. Hadn't I already told you that?"

"There's no one else here, Merlin. Our _host_ made that clear."

"The food was made by elves."

"Oh, so the food was made by- what?"

"Elves."

"Forest elves? With arrows? And a hate of men?"

"Nope. House elves. With a fondness for housework. They're really quite funny."

"Are they."

"You're very skeptical of me today. You'll see them when we go to meet Blaise though, so you can see for yourself." Merlin rolled his eyes and continued eating, finishing off food quite happily while Arthur registered what he'd said.

"His name was Blaise, then? This game fellow."

"Yes. He says the government here was banning them in some silly power play." Merlin informs him offhandedly. He should really try and get another essay done tonight if he can. He's just not sure how keen he really was to write more. It was a little more tasking then he'd truly like.

"That sounds like the least intelligent play for power I have ever heard of." Arthur informed him in disgust. Merlin laughed, but he couldn't agree more.

The next day according to his schedule, held new classes, including one late at night, held only on Wednesdays

His first was charms, so, once breakfast was over and done with, he headed off early, to secure his obscure place in the back of the room.

"Oh!" Merlin spun at the sudden sound. For a moment, he saw no one, then a rather short man came out from behind a pile of books. "Welcome!" he said, voice very high.

Merlin smiled and bowed. “Thank you, my lord."

The man chuckled at his language, waving it off as if such formalities were hardly necessary. Merlin was glad he wasn't given another odd look, though he realized he should probably be calling him by his title instead.

"Please, boy, sit down! I've been told of you. You seem quite well versed in anything I might try to catch you up on so I will not bother." Merlin nodded, watching him curiously as he scurried around the room, tiny and energetic.

Slowly, he lowered himself into a seat. He seemed to be preparing for the days lesson.

The door creaked open, and Hermione peaked in, looking instantly quite pleased to see him there. "Oh good! I thought you might be here early." Merlin turned and smiled at her. She smiled back and hurried over to sit beside him.

"I had a few things I'd wanted to talk with you about!"

"I thought you might. Do tell," He said.

"I want to ask how you're adjusting. Was Arthur still...?"

"Everything was fine, Hermione. I'm going to bring him to the kitchens this weekend. Well, I might have to do something sooner. I think he's going stir crazy."

"Oh dear! I'm glad he isn't bothering you at least. And how about your homework?"

Merlin made a face. "Writing was slow and cumbersome." He said. "But I have two essays from the book, and an essay for transfiguration. Arthur won't let me procrastinate."

"Well," she said. "That was good. You said you needed help to write before. Was that alright?"

"Arthur taught me last night."

"Oh, that's brilliant. It's awful that you were never taught. I love writing, and reading."

"Where would I even have used it at home?"

She looked a little confused. "I'm sure it must have had some uses..."

Merlin made a face. "As it was, Arthur was probably going to force me to write his speeches for him. You have no idea how awful that sounds. I've never had to do that before."

She looked curious, but thought better of the line of conversation because she had to at least suggest him going to DA meetings, too.

"Oh _dear_... I hope you aren't forced to do any more work then you already are! But, um... I wanted to ask you... I know Defense against the dark arts must have been a little disappointing..."

"Sort of, yeah." He said, "I'm a bit skeptical how Professor Umbridge earned her position at all, considering your war."

"It was, perhaps, because of it that she was here." Hermione said sadly. "But I was wondering if you would be interested in... joining a study group." she dropped her voice and leaned close to him. "It's entirely secret right now, so you must mention it to no one."

"How can it be secret if you need to run your groups past Professor Umbridge?"

"Well, she doesn't know about it, mostly."

 He looked at her rather skeptically. Hermione glanced around, a little nervous and leaned closer. "In fact...... it was a secret for the most part _because_ of her, you could say."

"...right." He looks away for a moment, seeming rather amused. "Alright, I was waiting for it to come to me."

"Excuse me?" She asked, very much confused by that statement. He grinned.

"The trouble. I knew the trouble was going to find its way to me. It always does."

"Oh. Does it? I should hope this isn't actually trouble."

"Well, not specifically. But it does have a troubling sort of feel to it, doesn't it. A troubling sort of... troubleness."

"Does that mean you don't want to go?"

"I would never pass by an opportunity to learn more! I just think you should know."

A slow nod. She hasn't the time to say more, because people start streaming into the room for classes. Ron looked a little annoyed, that Hermione was sitting with Merlin again, but he and Harry walked over anyway.

Hermione happily informed them in hushed tones that Merlin will be joining them at their next meeting. Ron made a face, and then said that sounds _brilliant_.

Merlin laughs, because it was pretty obvious he'd somehow gotten on the redhead's bad side, and it was unusual for someone to not just outright inform him of it.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron and told Merlin the more the merrier. They need any help they can get.

Merlin wondered if he could get Arthur to come. He asked if all of it was strictly magical, or if any of the defenses could be learned otherwise. Hermione seemed to realize exactly what he was getting at.

The teacher called attention up to the front to start class.

Oh, Merlin liked this class. This class was incredible. It was light and friendly, and fun. Things he can do around the house, or Arthur's chambers. Or just for fun.

He asked Flitwick constantly though the class to show him more and more spells. He was starting to garner the strangest looks, even from Hermione.

He grinned at her. "This was incredible!" he told her.

She laughed in return, a little confused. "Yes, I suppose it was?" Ron grumbled that they're going to get extra homework, at this rate. Harry maked a face, but he doesn’t mind too much to learn the new things. 

Merlin ignored any and all judgments he was being faced with, and just continued asking question after question, the most energetic student Flitwick has had in a long time.

Later that day, he finded out several other teachers have gotten very similar impressions.

Why was that so? He wonders. It was not just that he was eager to learn. The vast majority have the same passion. Once learned, the immediately seek a new topic. With him, it was the sheer rate of it. He picked up on magic so quickly it was almost intuitive.

Intuitive magic. How fascinating! He looked forward to more with this boy.

After class, Merlin walked with Hermione, Harry and Ron. Luckily, they don't have extra homework, so Ron has cooled down somewhat.

Harry was explaining the location and time of the meetings. "I'm not sure about anything non-magic, though.”

  He said. "I don't think anyone actually _knows_ anything like that that would help against dark magic."

"When you put it like that, yeah." Merlin said. He noded thoughtfully. "Arthur's never able to defend himself against it. I've got to do all the work."

Hermione titters, but Ron and Harry just look curious. "He seems right useless, you know." Ron comments. He was subtly trying to impress Hermione, standing up for the whole abusive master or whatever thing.

Merlin laughed. "Oh, he was in a lot of things. But he has his moments." He glanced at them. "Oh. By the way... it's not lunch time, but I don't have anything. Does that mean anything in particular?"

"Means you've got a break. We haven't though." Harry sighed. "Have you been put into any electives? It's care of magical creatures for us."

"...I don't know that word." Merlin mutters. It was starting to become a point of pride, how little he knew about this world.

"It means extra classes. Something you don't _have_ to take."

"There's more?" His eyes lit up. Ron was reminded of several people, and was pretty sure he knew what was coming. "I want to do it all."

"Oh. I think, you need to talk to Professor McGonagall."

Merlin grinned at Hermione. "Alright I'll do that. Do you know where she would be?" 

"You'll want to be careful, taking them all. You’ll be right tired by the end." Merlin blinked at Ron, but nodded.

"I'm used to doing a lot in a day so I think I can manage." Harry laughed, remembering Hermione's attitude at the start of third year. He was a lot like her, actually.

It was curious.

They sent him on his way to McGonagall and went to their class. 

 

"Hello, professor." Merlin said, peeking through the crack in the door.

"Good afternoon, Merlin." She says. "What brings you here? Are you after more spells? I heard your appetite for knowledge has been voracious."

He laughed. "Yes, that's somewhat why I'm here. There are more subjects I could take, right? Hermione said to ask you. I want to take all of them."

"Why am I not surprised. That was a somewhat complicated request though, Merlin. Sit. Good. I'll need to talk to the headmaster and request permission from the ministry. They are usually fine with granting permission to students with good record, but I do not know what they will do about a student with no record."

Merlin laughed, seeing this more as an amusing joke then any sort of true obstacle. McGonagall wondered if Dumbledore had made this all seem rather normal.

She also wondered where this boy had come from. It was odd. Troubling, even.

She resolved to ask Albus more thoroughly about it as soon as possible.

"The true problem, of course, is that the Ministry is not currently being the most cooperative, as you may have heard."

"Oh no, are they going to deny me more classes as part of their political power play?"

"Most simply, yes. They are." She said. "And for that, I apologize. I will still talk to the headmaster first. Something may be done to help you."

He smiled at her. "Thank you." he breathed. "I don't know how long I'll be here; I want to learn as much as I possibly can."

She nodded. "I understand. Was there anything else? Will I be able to expect your homework, Merlin?" He looked over her glasses at him sternly. 

"Yes." He said immediately without thinking. When his brain caught up with his tongue, he was grateful Arthur had made him write it already.

Then he was reminded of all the other ones he had to do.

"Good." She said. "Then if that was all, I have papers to grade."

He nodded, and actually bowed himself out of the room. She was startled by that too, but she just sighed, shaking her head and going back to her work.

Merlin scurried off, wondering when he would get word back about the possibility of more classes, but deciding he should really be worry about finishing the work he needed to do first. 

He went back to the room where Arthur was, quite plainly, shocked to see him.

"You're early. It can't be lunchtime already."

"Nope! I have some free time so I'm going to try another of those writings."

"Thank GOD." Arthur said, "I have been bored stiff. At least it's entertaining to watch your chicken scratch."

"Hey!" Merlin said, but he didn't look upset. Just, thoughtful.

They finished off two more essays, though one needed rewriting as Arthur declared it hopelessly convoluted. Lunch was retrieved part way through, and barely served as a break; Arthur demanded a complete recountment of the charms class.

He was surprised at how utterly harmless it sounded. 

"And you're sure they aren't lulling you into a false sense of security?"

"Yes!"

Then, Merlin had to leave again, for yet another class. Arthur wondered if this was how it felt for their roles to be reversed.

Except he didn't actually have duties to be getting on with like Merlin would. He actually sort of wished he did.

At this rate, he might just start... something. He didn't even know what he would do if he got too bored. He already was too bored.

He just had no idea what to do about it. He gritted his teeth and wondered again if he should try venturing out.

He made a face and glared at a wall. He should wait until he was going with Merlin for that... games thing, or whatever it was.

He should.

But.

He was so bored.

Arthur sighed and crept to the door. He noticed, cheeks heating, that he was clutching his dagger. He let go quickly and reached for the door instead. The handle was completely normal beneath his fingertips. It felt cool, ready to be moved with a twist of his wrist. There was no indication that it would suddenly spring magic on him and... Twist itself or anything of the sort. Well. That was a relief.

With a certain sense of normalcy still intact in this suddenly very very intimidating (no wait that wasn't the right word Arthur was not intimidated) world, he twisted the knob and wrenched the door open. The hall was as it had been before, the last time he'd rashly stepped outside. At least then he'd had a purpose. Merlin wasn't running away from him this time. Arthur was just wandering.

Somewhere.

His face twisted into one of mildly pained indecision as he attempted to decide where to go. He had no idea where these corridors led. 

He thought he remembered the way here well enough, so he could go outside. What he would do outside was beyond him. He couldn't hunt; unicorns. Though he isn’t sure what would be cursed.

He still didn't want to kill them, though.

But maybe he could get a look at the forest, with no crossbow and just a dagger; it'd be hard to hunt anyway. Not impossible, for he was very good, but more trouble than it was worth.

Which was perfect, as hunting wouldn't be worth it. But he'd be able to defend himself. And do something for a change.

He slipped out into the grey stone hallway. It had a bit of that chill that castles did, being made of cool rock, but not as much as Camelot's castle. The rough stone was broken up irregularly by colorful tapestries that hung from the ceiling to the floor. Paintings hung here and there, sometimes bafflingly empty. On his way down a staircase, he noted one such empty painting and frowned at it. Then he started. There was a head peaking from the side, blinking at him curiously. The head of a little girl, her brush strokes thick and colorful but still very adeptly defined. 

He stared back.

After a moment, she squeezed into the picture and smiled shyly at him.

"You're a muggle, aren't you? I've never met one before..."

"Excuse me?" He was talking to a painting.

"Oh, I guess you wouldn't know the word! It means you have no magic."

He nodded very slowly. What rules even applied to paintings? Was it actually a sorcerer that had made a mistake? A cursed victim? Can it cast magic? "Can you cast magic?"

"Oh, no. Well. Not anymore. Not, out there, I mean. I can cast magic in my painting. But nothing out there. Where you are."

"Oh." That would be a humane way of dealing with magic users, wouldn't it? Not burning or killing them after all, but they couldn't cast magic anymore could they? But that would require magic to begin with and was an entirely ridiculous line of thought anyway. Arthur shook his head and walked away.

“Hey! Oh, how rude!” He heard the painting say as he rounded the corner. Footsteps followed him, and for a moment, he knew it was completely normal; he did of course, just blow off a conversation.

But the painted girl could not move, surely. She was a painting. He whirled around, and stopped at the short girl just behind him.

“That was very rude.” She said, standing chest to chest with him. She had to crane her neck, messy blonde hair falling over her shoulders and down her back. “You really ought to say sorry.”

Arthur stared down his nose at her, simply because there was no other way to look at her.

“Well?”

“Who _are_ you?”

“You are just a fairly rude person all together, aren’t you? But I suppose it was rude not to introduce myself. My name is Luna Lovegood. Loony if you prefer. I don’t, I think it’s rather hurtful.”

“Arthur. Pendragon. Excuse me, what are you talking about?”

“You just walked away from that poor girl.” Her odd, bulbous earrings rocked on their hooks as she shook her head.

Arthur glanced to the wall at the sudden movement in his peripheral vision. The girl was peeking down from a small painting high above their heads.

“That was very rude of me.” He said finally. “My sincerest apologies, fair lady.” Luna smiled brightly and he heard a startled giggle from above.

“Okay! I forgive you.” Arthur nodded jerkily and took a step back from the distracted looking Luna. She was staring right at him with eerie pale eyes. Her feeling of distraction lay in every other element, from the hair in disarray to the mismatched clothing and crooked cloak.

She continued to smile as he took another step back, and was next to him when he turned away to continue his exploration.

“Arthur. You’re too old to go here, aren’t you? How old are you? Are you thirty? I’m fourteen. I’ve heard things about thirty year olds- don’t worry, they aren’t all bad. Just that they get very boring.”

“I’m. Not boring.” Arthur said. He walked a delicate line between baffled and affronted.

“Oh, well then I guess you must not be thirty.”

“How can that even make sense?” He wondered if it was a morbid joke, dead people aren’t often interesting after all.

“Well, my theory is that their imagination is lured off around then. You know, with adults being so busy, it’s very easy to distract them and just, run off with it! There are several creatures that live off imagination, you know. They eat it.”

“Nonense.”

“I think yours came early.”

“Nonsense! And _where_ are we going?” Luna laughed at him and said that she was following _Arthur_.

“So, Arthur Pendragon, where are we going?” Arthur schooled his face from an irritated grimace and sighed. She was as cryptic as their _host_.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been here before. I don’t know where anything is.”

“I go to school here.” He knew that. “I know where a good many things are. Where do you _want_ to go?”

“I’m bored.” She grabbed his hand in her long fingered cool one and ran abruptly left. Their brisk pace down long corridors and sudden, _moving_ stairs, left nothing in doubt that it was now Luna’s top priority that he be entertained.

They stopped at a set of wide, very tall wooden doors. One was propped open, a musty draft blowing past them. It smelled of time and old paper and was clearly a library.

“You brought me to books.” She nodded and kept pulling him inside. “Books are for work.”

“They aren’t very boring. Unless you’re reading Defensive Magical theory. That book is awful. We’ll find you anything but that book.” She pulled him to the back, and Arthur wondered if he found the spacey descendant of Morgana. Morgana, before everything. He dragged his thought back to the dust library before the image of this little girl twisted by hate (not magic, Merlin had said) came unbidden.

“Are there any books that aren’t about magic?”

“You’re in a magic school about magic. There might be one.” Arthur chuckled, but swallowed it quickly. Luna beamed at him. She hadn’t let go of his hand and he thought she reminded him of Princess Elena more than Morgana.

“That one, then.”

“Are you sure that you aren’t thirty years old? Perhaps twenty nine?”

“Stop that. I am twenty four. Your imagination business is frankly unrealistic.” Luna hummed, frowning. She dropped his hand and pulled a thick tome out of the shelf.

“Here. You seemed like the sort that likes animals. I like animals too.” She walked away and Arthur felt his gut twist.

 _The Arbitrarily Alphabetical Almanac of Animals_ by Alistair and Abigail Adderwood. “Luna.” A complete encyclopedia of magical animals, annually updated. “Luna! I _am_ sorry.” She glanced back at him. “That was rude of me. Again.”

“Yes. You’re a rather rude person.”

“I can be. I’ll try not to be rude to you.”

“That’s very flattering. I suppose I can forgive you.” Arthur hefted the book under his arm.

“I do find animals rather interesting.” She smiled at him. The corner of Arthur’s mouth turned up wryly. “I’ve got a number of hounds and some horses.”

“I have a bush of dirigible plums. They’re almost like pets.” Arthur didn’t ask.

Luna sat them down in the back of the library, where fewer wizards and witches and people learning _magic_ were. (It didn’t seem different that his tutoring; hours of poring over dusty books learning languages and diplomacy and war.)

Their table was empty, and a little dirty. The time was entertaining, though. Luna was very, very clever, Arthur thought. She knew a lot about his subjects, when they started talking about school.

“I like to read a lot.” was her only explanation. “I find it rather interesting that muggle schools teach all these things like math and foreign history. They have all the books here, of course, but no one reads them.”

“Your royal family, I’m sure, has tutors in those subjects.” Luna tilted her head and sucked on a feather pen thoughtfully. Arthur resisted the urge to pull it out and admonish her. Though it wasn’t a good habit, it wasn’t his place to say.

“The royal family are muggles. The Minister of Magic went to Hogwarts. So, that isn’t very helpful, is it?”

“The what?” Luna tilted her head at him.

“The Minster, Arthur Pendragon. He is the top of the law of the magical community. He’s the one who _would_ deal with foreign policy, I suppose. Though there is an entire department. Well, the public one. A lot goes on that we don’t see, you see. Oh, well, you don’t see.” She said in her sleepy, curious way.

-

“All of these animals are magical, aren’t they?” Arthur said flatly, flipping through the book. He swallowed at the unicorn’s entry. The picture did the creature no justice. The description, when he read it, gave nowhere near enough information to warn the wayward hunter away.

“Haven’t we talked about this?”

“So you know nothing of normal animals. Like sheep. Or deer. Maybe there is no need, though. The magic ones are the ones that cause all the trouble and destroy villages.”

“More than villages if they are as big as dragons.” Luna said. They had dragons. Hell. “But they are probably just getting along on their own.”

“Really.  All that livestock eating-”

“They’re hungry.”

“And people eating-”

“Still hungry.”

“But they can’t be allowed to eat people!” Arthur said. Hand flat across the picture of the unicorn.

“Unicorns don’t eat people, Arthur Pendragon.” She shushed him before he could object that wasn’t what he’d meant. How does he meet these girls? “But humans are not a lot of meat for the trouble, are they? I mean, it must be much easier to each something else. So if a wild dragon or acromantula or herblewiff eats someone, it’s got to be a last resort, right?”

“Possible. Or they’re bloodthirsty. Are you making up words?” Luna flipped open to the page with a hideous looking spider in stark hairy detail. It paced the top third of the page, and prodded, with one long stripped leg, the word _Acromantula_ above it.

“They don’t have herblewiffs. They don’t believe in them. I’ll find you the Quibbler article.”

“…Right.”

-

“I’ll take out the book, if you want. Since you don’t go here, and you don’t like libraries.” She stood.

“I never said that.” Arthur grumbled, ignoring the overwhelming truth value and his uncomfortable shifting. Luna wandered around the table. “Not to mention, have a magic book, no matter how educational.”

Luna looked at him in mild confusion. Arthur stared back. Oh, she had no idea of his history, like Merlin. She tilted her head and blinked heavy lidded eyes.

“Nothing.” Arthur found himself saying. “I’d like the read. My manservant is hardly around anymore and it makes for a very dull day.”

“Several books.” Luna said and walked away.

“What am I going to do with all of these?” Arthur said as quietly as he could. His arms were full of hard covered books, brown and black leather and a variety of sizes. He stood, hunched and shoulders proudly back, near the entrance of the library.

“Read them, I think.” Luna smiled at him. “Because you have nothing to do, right? This is something to do, and it’s a fun thing to do, I think.”

-

Arthur assured her that he remembered the way they took there. “I can find my way back to the room with no trouble, Lady Luna.”  
  
“I’ve never been called a lady before.” She said, the words are those a flustered peasant girl would say, but with the air and dictation of a noble. Arthur shook his head.

“Then people have been-“

“Rude. Yes, I know. They often are. It’s very unpleasant. I’m glad you aren’t, often. I like you. Off to your rooms now, Arthur Pendragon. I hope to speak to you again someday.”

Arthur shifted the books under one arm, and took her hand. He touched his lips to her fingertips and walked away. Luna beamed and skipped down the hallway.


	7. Dark Days Dawning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little in between chapter ahead.

“I want it _found_!” Harry shrieked. He threw a goblet, steaming with something, across the dark room. It smashed against the dark wall, splashing. The small group of men and women seated around the table shrank back in a wave. The sound of dripping came like clock ticks.

The room as cold and the sparse sickly flames floating in the air did little to reduce the gloom. Harry slammed his hand flat on the table, whipped out his wand arm and _tortured_ the nearest warm body. A man fell to the ground screaming. A woman leapt from her seat, “My lord! My _lord_ , we will find it!” She whispered, hissed over the crumpled howls.

“Do you understand me?” Harry said, calm again. “I will have that, that thing. That power- It will be _mine_.” He felt angry then, a specific anger. Harry thought it might be over his lack of knowledge.

He couldn’t see much of the room, not because of the dimness; his eyes had adjusted and he could make out dust. Cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, old stone walls ambiguously grey in the poor lighting. But his eyes kept wandering, more interested in the stoic (frightened) faces of his Deatheaters.

“My lord,” Harry turned sharply to the speaker. Snape.

“Severus.” He said, the name rolled off the tongue. “Speak.”

“This means that your ritual was a success, yes?” A sharp, overwhelming feeling of triumph.

“ _Yes_.” Harry said. “It was.”

“Excellent, of course. We will begin the search immediately.” He paused, to let the others chime in their agreement. Harry chuckled to himself. “What are we looking for?”

“To the point of course, Severus.” Harry whispered. Everyone heard him. “I do not know what it looks like. Its magic, of course, you should be able to locate. There will be nothing like it.”

Whispers started again. The woman giggled at Harry’s side, manic. Snape nodded. Harry’s rage had cooled, replaced, mostly, by anticipation. He felt himself draw back, room fading into grey, faces blurring. Snape was talking something about The Order.

Harry strained to hear it, but he was gone. He jolted in the bed, eyes wide and roaming around the fifth year dorm room and blinking against the gold and red glow of the early morning. He was breathing hard, limbs shaking. He caught himself in the tangle of blankets trying to get out of bed.

“Ron.” He said, as quiet as he could, and fell off the bed. “Ron!”

“What-” Ron’s muffled, sleepy voice came from the next bed over, curtains still drawn. “Mmmaaryy?”

“Ron, I had another dream.” Harry ripped the blankets of finally and shoved them past his curtain. “It was him again and they’ve done something-” Ron was up now, pulling the curtain back and fumbling with his sheets. He was ashen.

“You didn’t scream. I didn’t hear you, I mean. Bloody hell, were you-?”

“No. He was happy about something. He found a -a thing. Something really powerfully magic. The Deatheaters are searching for it now.” Harry whispered. They were crouched between the beds and silent for a long time. The other boys started to move and mumble as the sun rose higher. They must have been underground, Harry thought absently. The Deatheater meeting hadn’t even a hint of dawn.

“We should tell Hermione, right?” Ron said. He was picking at the wood, thinking, or maybe still waking up.

“Yeah.”

“And Dumbledore?”

“…Yeah, I guess we should.”

“I mean, if they found something really powerful…” Harry nodded. They should. He didn’t want to. The thought made something ugly curl up in his stomach.

-

Hermione felt the same when they told her about the morning in hushed voices. “Professor Dumbledore needs to know! It has to do with the Order, Harry, we should go see him right away.”

“I know.” Harry said.

“What could it be, I wonder? Something powerful. A dark artifact, maybe?” She was surely thinking of looking it up in the library. He told her about what Snape had said. “A ritual. That doesn’t seem like something that would summon an artifact… Make one, maybe, but then You- _Voldemort_ would have it. I think.” She hummed to herself, and was off to the library the first chance they had.

Ron and Harry declined joining her, citing homework that they’d been putting off too long. They sat in the common room, facing the fire in the large overstuffed chairs they claimed. Papers and scrolls, one book, laid spread out on the low table in front of them. Ron was hunched over and scribbling. Harry leaned in his entwined hands, staring into the flames.

Dumbledore would probably know everything he would say.

Hermione met them again just before Defense against the Dart Arts. They grabbed their hastily written essays and ran out the door to class. Most of the students were there already, books on desks and wands, rather dejectedly, tucked in bags or sleeves.

Harry heard Seamus muttering darkly about Umbridge to Dean, and stomped down urge to agree. Merlin, he noticed then, was sitting in the back, rocking back and forth like he wasn’t sure whether to stand or not. Ron rolled his eyes and followed when Hermione went right to him.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered worriedly. Harry remembered to ridiculous amount of homework he’d been assigned in the previous class. A sympathetic coil of dread lurched around his stomach. Ron must have remembered, too, because he sat nearby and was more jovial towards Merlin than he normally was.

“What do I do with the essays?” Merlin asked very quietly in his strong accent. “Do I, give them to her? It’s rude to have her collect them from me, right?”

Hermione clicked her tongue. “It depends,” she said. “ _Normally_ , she would collect them, or have us pass them up to her.” Merlin nodded. “But you have extra. I think you should bring it to her.”

“Right now?” Umbridge was at her desk in the front of the room, looking over an obvious pile of their essays, marked up and down with bright pink ink.

“Yes, before class starts. Or after. You just can’t interrupt class.” This felt sort of obvious to Harry, but Merlin hummed his acknowledgment and stood. He slipped a small stack of papers from under the desk, and walked up to Umbridge.

“ _He finished them all_?” Ron said.

“Yes what is—you finished them all?” Umbridge echoed, blinking toad-like down at the sheaf of paper held out to her.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Well- well then! Excellent. I will have them back to you. Remember, you are expected to keep up with class from now on. I will expect you to answer when I call on you in class.” Merlin nodded quickly. “Yes. Return to your seat now. That’s a good boy.”

Ron failed to completely swallow a smirk when Merlin almost ran back to his seat and left Umbridge staring confused at the essays. He clapped Merlin on the back.

“Nice one, mate.” Merlin grinned.

Umbridge did call on him during class, several times. He was confused the first two and just sort of stared at her. She ignored Hermione, and sprang one particularly inciting question on Harry.

“Yes, Mister Potter?” he hadn’t raised his hand. “What is the proper protocol with dealing a person harmfully spreading libel and inciting discord?” Hermione grabbed his sleeve under the desk before he opened his mouth. He gritted his teeth.

Merlin glanced curiously between Harry and Umbridge, from the other side of Ron. He fidgeted with the corner pages of his book, and looked sharper than Harry knew anyone had been giving him credit for.

He raised his hand abruptly, eager and an almost exact imitation of Hermione (who hadn’t bothered). Umbridge’s little eyes slipped off Harry and over to Merlin. She smiled, glanced at Harry again for just a second before she nodded at Merlin to continue.

“Since Mister Potter clearly doesn’t know the answer, please enlighten us, Mister Gaius.”

“That falls under the, uh, jurisdiction of The Demarkment-” Hermione hissed ‘ _department’_ , staring down at the table. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but only if it poses a threat to the, wellbeing of the general public, is a violation of the statue of secrecy, or violates, um, mundane- Muggle British law.”

Umbridge was either too amused by his mistakes, or happy with everything else. She left the answer well enough alone and set them packing up. Ron had stuffed a fist in his mouth.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Hermione said when they were out of the room. “Did you do that on purpose?”

“Of course I did! She was bullying him-” Hermione patted his arm and smiled.

“I know that. She was.” She looked about to say more and stopped. “Thank you.”

Merlin grinned, bowed slightly to her, then Harry and Ron, then ran off.

Harry sighed. “Did you find anything in the Library?”

Hermione’s shoulders dropped slightly, her bag nearly slid off. “No… I suspect it wouldn’t be here, but I want to check a few other places first- What will we do if it isn’t? I suppose I could check some of the stores in Hogsmede.”

“The Order will probably take care of it, yeah?” Ron said, glancing around. “What I want to know is when can we start the, you know.”

Hermione nodded. “Soon. I’ll be back tonight, alright?” She ran off and they didn’t see her at all for lunch. Ron slipped a few snacks and a sandwich in his bag and smiled awkwardly at Harry.

They didn’t see Merlin, either, until Herbology, but that was no surprise. He grinned at them from his seat at the long plant covered table. An overcurious plant had over turned itself in Merlin’s distraction and fell into his lap, playing with his robes.

“Oh-!” Ron laughed and he and Harry helped hoist the leafy bush back onto the table. It grabbed for Merlin’s red scarf. Merlin stood and brushed the dirt off without much attention. The students there snickered, but Merlin just grinned at them.

Hermione hadn’t arrived yet. In fact, she was ten minutes behind the teacher, and apologized profusely when she entered.

Professor Sprout just smiled, though, and gave Hermione a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Over there, with Neville, there’s a free spot.”

Neville smiled at her and they whispered together over their plant. Ron was working with Merlin; Sprout said she wanted to change things up because they had another set of hands. Harry had been stuck with Seamus for about five minutes before Dean came over, his face incredulous and irritated, frowns in the lines of his forehead as well as his mouth. 

“You’re both being right ridiculous, you know that, right?” He hissed. “Harry, switch with me. Lavender is over there.”

They worked together in silence for all of ten minutes before she spoke and Harry inwardly cringed.

“Don’t get mad or anything. I just, I wanted to know why you’d say what you said.” She whispered, not looking up from trimming tiny red leaves.

“Because it’s true.” Harry said. She glanced sharply at his petulant tone; her mouth curved down and open for an angry retort. She clamped it shut and they both sat looking sour.

“Well, why are you the only one, then?”

“I’m not, am I? Dumbledore obviously believes it. And Cedric would if he were alive, because he was there and _died_ because of it.” She looked a little green, then, and Harry felt bad. “…Sorry.”

“…Yeah.”

She chewed her lip, accidentally cutting off a green leaf every now and then, until the plant grabbed the shears and started trimming itself. They both shared a surprised snicker.

“Why, why would the Profit say that, then? I mean, it’s talking about the Headmaster, too.”

“Disgusting what they’re doing, isn’t it.” Harry whispered. She nodded after a moment.

“Still not saying I believe you. I mean, it’s almost impossible for _him_ to be back. But.” Harry frowned at her, but she wasn’t looking, picking under her nails and smoothing over the pale pink paint on her long brown fingers. “I think you believe you, don’t you. That doesn’t make any sense- I’m scared that there _is_ someone, even if it isn’t, well, _him_.”

Harry nodded. They finished caring for their plant the rest of the class in a comforting silence.


	8. The Gobstones and Chess Club riot of 1995

"So, I was invited to play wizarding games." Merlin said. He sat heavily on his bed and leaned forward over his knees.

"You mentioned as much." Arthur said. Merlin blinked owlishly at him and Arthur quirked his brow. "...What?"

"Well, it's just you've been very agreeable lately."

"I'm always agreeable." Okay, so not always agreeable, but he thought himself doing rather well right now, considering.

"Yes, of course you are, sire. I just thought, well, you've been awfully cooped up." Arthur said nothing for a moment, turning away from Merlin to take a few thoughtful bites of his food. He ought to mention he had wandered the castle on his own while Merlin was at his witchcraft classes, but he hadn't gotten around to it. He didn't owe Merlin that anyway.

"So I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me?" Merlin said.

"Sure, why not." He replied through a mouthful of what was probably venison. He remembered sitting in the library poring over almanacs of magical creatures with Luna. He raised an eyebrow at the square of meat on his fork.

“Really? I mean, the games are magical. And we’d be playing with a warlock. Wizard.”

“So I would assume. The world is ruled by wizards after all.” He saw Merlin tense up out of the corner of his eye and looked away. “But surely a bout of games couldn’t be any trouble!”

“So,” he heard Merlin shift on the bed and finally walk towards him. “You _do_ want to come?” He pulled over the little wooden chair to the table and sat across from Arthur. He fiddled with the fork next to his own (probably cold by now) meal.

 _“Mer_ lin, you are such a girl. I said yes.” Arthur said with a derisive snort. Merlin rolled his eyes and speared the cauliflower on his plate.

“You won’t, you know,” He jerked his head a little towards the wall where Arthur’s sword leaned. Arthur glowered at him.

“No. They are bleeding games, and I am a prince! I can control myself!” Merlin shoved his food in his mouth and nodded very quickly, humming something messily to the affirmative. Arthur’s frowned crookedly at him. “Merlin, that’s disgusting.”

“Sorry,” he swallowed. “Sorry. I’ll just.” They ate in silence until Merlin had to leave for his final two classes of the week and took the dishes with him.

Arthur waited a minute before he ran to the door and checked furtively down the corridor, head barely peeking out. Merlin was out of sight, and no one else was around. He slipped out and down the hall.

His path down to the library was pretty convoluted. He only knew the way to where he’d been lost, and where Luna took him from there. This time, he noted his turns and the number of flights down he took. A castle was a castle and he would damn well know his way around.

This went perfectly well until the staircase he was on, library entrance just in front of him, decided that it didn’t like where it was going and moved abruptly up. Arthur staggered and grabbed the railing—which used to be flush against the wall—before he fell and rolled into the growing gap before the landing.

“Bollocks, bollocks, bloody—Arhh!” The floating flight of stairs lurched. Arthur whipped his head around, trying to find the sorcerer that was doing this, but he saw no one. They were all in class that he knew of. The landing was getting further away and he did not know to where this stupid staircase was going. He ran to the bottom and leaped.

He landed on his forearms and stomach, and grabbed the bottom of the stair railing that no longer attached to stairs. _It was a very smooth break_ , Arthur noted as he hoisted himself up. He ran into the library and to the back before any invisible sorcerers could do any worse.

He collapsed into a soft chair in the back corners, breathing hard. He wasn’t so much tired from exertion, as still ready to fight. He couldn’t believe he became so complacent in a bloody school filled with magic. Just because Merlin was loyal, because Luna was nice, didn’t mean he was safe. He wouldn’t forget that a second time.

“Arthur,” Luna wandered over looking for the entire world like she was there by accident. “I saw you run over here. Are you alright?”

“…Yeah. I’m okay.” She smiled at him, her eyelids heavy. She held out a flimsy very short book.

“The Quibbler. It’s my father’s magazine.” Luna said. “I told you about it on Wednesday. I think I did. I suppose I might not have, but I meant to.” Her smile got a little wider. “It’s the thought that counts, sometimes.”

Arthur snorted and took the magazine. “Thank you, Luna.” She sat cross-legged on the ground at his feet and leaned on the side of the chair. She had a couple books of her own and seemed quite content to just sit there and read.

Arthur wasn’t sure this Quibbler was written entirely in English. At the very least, the future felt they needed a lot more words. He sighed for the third time. “I’ll read this later, Luna.” He said.

“Of course you can hold on to it.” She said lazily from below his elbow. “You’re welcome.”

“…Thanks.” He tried not to smile.  “I would appreciate it if you’d tell me where to find a book on history.”

“I have one if you like.” She tapped the top of the pile at Arthur’s foot. The history was much easier to understand. Not his favorite topic (much too immobile for that), but it was something he thought he might need. It didn’t go far enough back, an odd thought on its own, for him to learn more of what happened to Albion, but it was interesting. He wondered if the library would have reports and records of battles. They mentioned a couple in this one.

“Who’s Grindelwald?”

“A dark wizard. But that book doesn’t write about him; it’s too early.”

“Mmm. It compared him to Lillian the Angelic. Apparently they used similar techniques in terrorizing the innocent.”

“I expect that a lot of dark tyrants do.” Luna said. “This one does too.” Arthur glanced over at her. She was well immersed, small face in her large dusty book.

“How bad is it?”

“I read the obituaries every morning. They’re a section of the paper dedicated to people who have just passed away, by the way. My father isn’t in them, yet.” He dropped a hand down and gripped her shoulder with a moment of hesitation.  “It’s alright. The Deatheaters are hiding right now, so not many people have died. “

“Right. And any of these people,” he waved a hand, although she wasn’t looking. “Think that sending you away to school is the best idea?”

“Hogwarts is the safest place anyone could be right now.” She said, peeking up at him through her wild blond hair. He blinked at her, face neutral. It hit him that this castle probably functioned much like his did; a magic sanctuary in a dangerous land during dangerous times. His respect for the old wizard crept up a notch.

As they left the cozy little corner, Arthur remembered his earlier plans. He wondered if he should sacrifice exploring the castle for a short route to go the one he was familiar with. Shorter would be better in the long run, however, and he needed to find a new way to get upstairs anyway. He stopped at the landing outside.

Luna looked at him with her head tilted as he stood stiff outside the Library doors. The stairs were back. _The stairs were back?_ They looked like they haven’t been moved for centuries. She looked from him to the floor.

“Wrackspurts, Arthur?”

“Wrack—what?” He said.

“Wrackspurts. They are invisible, and I can’t see anything on the stairs.” Arthur blinked and cocked his head at her.

“ _Invisible_ magical monsters, now?”

“Well, of course! I know quite a few of them.” She smiled at him, and looked back at the stairs. “I don’t feel any wrackspurts, though.”

“It’s the stairs.” Arthur said. He looked around, moving his head little but eyes roaming. “Someone made them move.”

“Oh! No, that was just the stairs. They do it on their own.”

“What—why?”

“I expect they get bored, being in one place.”

Arthur threw up his arms and stalked in a tight circle. “Is everything in this bloody place sentient?!”

“I don’t think the rugs are,” Arthur glared at her, lips quirked dangerously close to a pout. “But the suits of armor are on holidays.”

“Bollocks.” He said before his brain caught up. “—sorry, that was crude—” But Luna laughed at him. (Her cheeks and ears weren’t even slightly pink.) After a moment Arthur smiled crookedly back. “The stairs, then?”

“They are perfectly safe, if troublesome when you’re late.” Arthur nodded. He looked at the staircase appraisingly again. He was pretty sure there was some malevolence behind it. There was honestly no logical reason for it to move at random. Not to mention the dangers it presents to supposedly young and helpless sorcerers.

“Right.”

Merlin was not back in the room when he got there. His estimation of time was distorted from all the time he’d been spending inside, but he was pretty sure that was another ten minutes at least before he would return with dinner. He sat heavily on the chair and propped his feet up on the table with a thump. He hadn’t meant to leave it so close, but apparently this castle was not made with _any_ sort of sense in mind. Arthur was pretty sure he found a more direct route, but not before three other attempts ended in strange places.

He would have to get Merlin to figure out what that empty, sectioned room covered in china squares was. It had the strangest assortment of china sculptures, too. It was dingy, though, metal rusted and walls greyish. At home, such a rich room would be in excellent repair. Sorcerers, it seemed, were lazy even when their magic would surely make management simple and impossibly quick.

Merlin came in, looking surly. “Merlin! I need you to—” Arthur stopped.

“…Yes, sire? Do you need something? Backrub, perhaps, for your poor tired feet aching from your long walks?” He dumped the plates on the table and a tiny carrot rolled off the table. It froze in midair at the glare Merlin gave it. Arthur swallowed the urge to grab his dagger. The carrot put itself back on the plate. “Sorry. Sorry, just. One of the Professors here is sort of awful.”

“Surely you jest.” Arthur said. “Surely not one of these thousand or so sorcerers could possibly be lacking in moral or personable character.” Merlin didn’t look up from his ridiculously sulky position, but he laughed.

“She’s neither, I think. And she’s given us more _writing_. A foot and a half—isn’t that absurd? Measuring something in feet? Hermione had to explain it to me, because you don’t actually use your foot to measure.” Arthur arched an eyebrow.

“You don’t say?”

“It’s fixed. Hermione says it’s sort of odd. She says the Muggles are much more sensible.”

“Non-magic people being more sensible? How did you even hear such things in this place.” Merlin’s lip twitched. Arthur smirked.

Merlin was in a good enough mood to eat after that. He was disproportionately messy in everything he did, Arthur decided as he downed the last of his drink. (Was it fruit juice? It wasn’t a flavor he recognized from home.) Merlin was still gnawing away at his dinner. Arthur glanced from it to the half of the room that remained stubbornly messy. At least Merlin didn’t neglect _Arthur’s_ needs like he did his own laundry.

“So this game thing. When will that happen?” Arthur said.

“Tomorrow, around dinner. You still want to come, right?”

“I will. I want to see what sorcerers do for sport.” He turned back and saw a funny look disappear from Merlin’s face. “What? Yes, I know I must sound like a bloody fickle ponce—”

“No, it’s not that! You don’t. Because this is a good thing, like, learning, right? It just, it isn’t sport. They’re games of a… less active sort. I think.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Arthur nodded and turned away again. Merlin sagged in his seat, shoulders dropping back down again. (Did Merlin throw his guard up every time Arthur raised his voice? He frowned.) “Do you not want to come anymore?”

“I’d still like to see.” Merlin beamed at him and ducked his head. He grabbed the dishes and piled them up.

“Great! It’ll be an adventure. One that doesn’t end up with you doing something bullheaded and everyone dying. A fun adventure!” Arthur glared at him.

“I have never done a bull-headed thing—I don’t do bull-headed things!” he shouted after Merlin’s retreating form.

Arthur was in bed when he heard Merlin come into the room. Heavy footfalls abruptly stopped and he heard more of a whisper of movement cross the room. A clunk and quiet swearing confirmed that Merlin found his bed alright in the dark. Arthur stifled the urge to snicker with his pillow.

It was a long night. Arthur found that sleep didn’t come easy in this place, and the obstacles against his rest were ever changing. He rolled over and listened to Merlin snuffle. Merlin was a noisy sleeper, he decided. Horribly, ridiculously noisy, with snores and mutterings, and whistles, and lips smacking. What sort of servant is so utterly inconsiderate—well alright, he probably can’t help it. It can’t be healthy, though.

Arthur counted the seconds between each breath, then between his and Merlin’s. Was Merlin frightened of him? He couldn’t be, shouldn’t be. It actually made no sense for Merlin to be frightened, especially in this place that would take to Merlin over him in a heartbeat. Not to mention, Merlin is very good at avoiding what scares him. While Arthur forced himself to admit that Merlin was frightened of a lot less than he gave him credit for, he had never gotten Merlin to walk his dogs after that first disastrous time.

Thus even Merlin the Idiot would not be around if he was actually scared of Arthur. Merlin must give him those stiff gestures and nervous looks for some other mysterious reason. Arthur rolls over again and stuffed the pillows over his head. He felt this reason was closer than he would like to the ones behind his father’s voice and eyes whenever Arthur was less than perfect.

Merlin sighed when Arthur refused to leave bed until noon the next day. Merlin had no classes on the weekend; a new thought to Arthur, who had been tutored several hours _every_ day when he was young.

He still tried to spend most of the day out, until Arthur forced him to sit down at the little table and write the newest essays that he’d been assigned. “Stop being such a baby, Merlin. You’re the one who agreed to educate yourself here.”

“It’s hard, though. And my letters aren’t as pretty as yours.”

“It’s rather hard to have letters as pretty as mine. I am, after all, the King.”

“Yeah, isn’t there a law against having prettier letters than the King or something, sire?”

“You really want to be my target again for knife throwing, don’t you?” Arthur smirked as Merlin returned to writing with a light hearted glare in his direction.

Merlin worked around lunch too, and Arthur was starting to go cross-eyed with boredom. He ribbed at Merlin for a while until he realized that made him write even slower.

“Please don’t tell me you’re not going to practice on me anyway,” Arthur glanced over, grasping the hilt of his sword.

“No, _Mer_ lin. You’re terrible with weaponry, but even you should know the difference between a long sword and a throwing knife. Size being the most obvious.” Merlin rolled his eyes and looked back down at the scroll of parchment. He nibbled on the end of his quill and Arthur grimaced.

“I’m keeping in shape.” Arthur said. He swung his blade a few arcs with one hand and tossed it to the other. Merlin nodded without looking as Arthur stabbed down several invisible foes. “Too bad you’re bollocks at anything remotely sharp. I need a sparring partner.”

“Mmm, sorry.” Merlin muttered about ten minutes later. Arthur snorted and continued his routine.

Three hours later Arthur had worked up a sweat, focused utterly on the swish and fall of his blade. The enemies were vivid in his mind as he parried invisible blows and struck out against invisible foes. Merlin suddenly crowed and he spun around, heart hammering in his chest. He whipped eyes about, tense and searching out the warrior who had startled Merlin.

“Finished! Arthur, sire, I finished it.”

“What?”

“The, never mind. It’s getting late. I’ll get water for a bath.” He glanced around the room. “And pick up.” Arthur sagged. He nodded and sheathed his sword.

“Good man.” He fell into his chair and watched Merlin bustle about like a mother hen; readying a rather nice smelling bath in the elaborate tub they were given.

“Merlin, what does one wear to a magic game exhibition?” Arthur peeled off his clothing and tossed them in a haphazard pile near his bed. He sank into the bath with a groan.

“It’s not like you’ve got a lot of choice in clothing, sire.” Merlin said, back turned and tidying the room. Arthur frowned at him.

“We’re trapped here, you know.” He said. “I realize that probably hasn’t occurred to you, have the magical time of your magical life, but it is true.” He watched Merlin’s shoulders hunch and imagined that same look of guarded apprehension on his face as earlier. “Not that it’s a bad thing. Because you certainly can’t in Camelot.”

Merlin glanced over his shoulder in what he probably thought was a subtle way. “…Right.”

“Thus, clothing.”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“Right now?” Merlin stared at him. Arthur cocked his eyebrow and nodded very patiently. “But—”

“I need something to wear to this event, don’t I?”

“It’s hardly an event…” Arthur arched an eyebrow. “It’s in half an hour, Arthur! What do you expect me to do, summon them out of thin air?” He wiggled his fingers aggressively at Arthur.

“Can’t you, though?”

“I can’t figure you out. And I think they would have to come from somewhere and that’s theft.” Arthur nodded slowly, lips quirked and thoughtful.

“Right then. Good to know that magic can’t ruin the economy.” Merlin stared at him. “I suppose my hunting cloths will to well enough. Didn’t you say half an hour? Hurry up, then!”

“…Yes, my lord.” He glanced over Arthur’s shoulder where he left the pile of clothes. “I may need to…” He wiggled his fingers at Arthur.

Arthur swallowed. “Sure. Why not. It won’t do anything weird when I wear it, right?” Merlin shook his head.

“I just need to clean them.” Arthur swallowed again and nodded. He sank into the water up to his ears when he heard Merlin move to mutter magic behind him.

Arthur was happy to see he recognized a good bit of the way to the kitchens. He had not been this far down the castle though since the day they arrived.

“It’s in here,” Merlin said. He was grinning again; Arthur couldn’t help a very small smile in return. Then Merlin faced them towards a large painting.

“ _Mer_ lin,”

“It’s a secret passage, give me a minute!” Merlin reached out and scratched his finger against the very large fake pear. Arthur arched an eyebrow, but leaped back when the demon fruit shook and laughed.

“Even the not-people ones are alive?!” Arthur tried to grab for his sword before he reminded himself both that he didn’t bring it and that _wasn’t the appropriate reaction_. Merlin glanced back and he nodded. Merlin pulled the handle (where did that come from?) and the painting swung open.

The kitchen was steamy and smelled delicious and heavy. He heard oddly high pitched voices and many feet, but not the utter clamor that he was expecting, nor the crowds and messiness. There were, however, very short bat eared creatures in all the colors men came in, but dressed like beggars. They ran around cooking and performing magic, and performing magic on cooking with the ease of snapping fingers. They crowded to Arthur and Merlin the second the latter two were noticed.

“Sirs, may we help you?”

“Has Master Merlin come for supper?”

“Does Sirs need something?”

“We came for dinner, and to meet with Blaise.” Merlin said. Most of the tiny men left, and one (which Arthur realized was not a man at all, and averted his gaze) grabbed Merlin’s hand and pulled him into the cozy depths.

“Merlin. Good to see you.” A regal looking man stood from the rickety wooden table to greet them. “And your friend. We have not been introduced; my name is Blaise Zabini.” He held out his hand to Arthur.

“Arthur Pendragon.” He said, and grasped Zabini’s forearm firmly. The gesture was returned with a little hesitation.

“A pleasure,” He gestured for them to sit and pulled a black and green satchel to the table. “I brought a few things you might enjoy.” He pulled out a wooden board that folded on hinges. It was worn and old, but well cared for. Different color stains broke the board up into a grid of small squares.

“First is Wizards’ Chess. I’ll let the piece explain themselves. They do so love to talk.” Out of a little velvet purse, Zabini pulled a couple dozen figurines and set them on the table. They hopped onto the board of their own momentum and started calling out question to each other in tiny voices.

“Let’s do this then, shall I go first?” the smallest type said.

“I think not,” said a posh woman’s voice.

“Oh, yes. Yes, I believe we should go by rank, no?” a gruff, cheerful little piece with an approximation of a crown said. One of the oddly pointed ones, and a little figure on a horse giggled. The posh woman figure twisted to glare.

Arthur glanced at Merlin to see him staring with unabashed wonder and glee. He sighed and propped himself on one hand and willed him mind to stop going ‘ _Attack! Sorcery!_ ’

The apparently game pieces explained how to play when they finally sorted themselves out. All the pieces that looked alike had the same function. All of them had to move in different ways. Different colors were different sides. Sensible but interesting. Arthur found himself getting quite curious by the time they finished explaining.

“But why does the queen have more, well, everything than the king?” Arthur asked.

“Because I have more bollocks than you, love.” The queen answered. Zabini covered his laugh. Merlin did not. Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“Shall we play a round then, Merlin?” Zabini asked.

“Yeah. Go easy on me, would you?” Merlin laughed again.

Their first game of chess was undoubtedly the most entertaining thing Arthur had ever seen. Zabini was more patient than any man had any right to be while Merlin stumbled blindly through strategy like it was a foreign world. All Merlin’s pieces started shouting advice before the third round was up, and both sides were by the tenth. Arthur was barely holding himself upright through laughter as Merlin demanded to know why a knight couldn’t make an illegal move. He took no answer until the clever little piece finally told him the he was cursed to move in the shape of a capital L for his past mistakes.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“It is no fault but my own, dear boy.” The chess piece told him very solemnly.

“But what about her?” Merlin asked. Both his knights glanced at each other over the heads of the other pieces.

“Oh, er, me too.” She said, nodding. “Tragic time.” Arthur slapped Merlin on the shoulder.

“Stop embarrassing the poor knights and play the game, _Mer_ lin!”

Merlin glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “You are far, far too into this.”

“You are far, _far_ too bad at this.” Arthur said. Merlin huffed and told the pieced to move in a much more legal manner.

Merlin, of course, lost spectacularly. There was a solid, tiny “Oooohh,” when Zabini’s queen knocked over Merlin’s tiny king. The king let out a grumpy huff, but called “Good game!” to the air. Merlin sulked (unsurprising) and Zabini asked if he wanted to play again, a reserved, but soft smile on his face. Merlin peeked at Arthur, and Zabini followed with sharp dark eyes.

Arthur looked at Merlin and raised an eyebrow. “Um, yeah. I think I’m getting the hang of it anyway.”

The second game went disastrously too. The third game was marginally better; Merlin did not try to send a piece off the board with the wrong letter. The fourth game ended ridiculously quickly. Arthur had started paying more attention to Zabini’s moves, some thought spared to the game pieces’ suggestions.

“Can I play?” He asked finally. “After this game is finished.” Merlin groaned and deflated.

“You can finish this one if you want. It’s a lost cause anyway.”

“It is.” Zabini said thoughtfully. Arthur looked at the board.

“Why not. Merlin, move over.” He slid to the side and Arthur moved to his place. Merlin didn’t have many pieces left; it was a lost battle, honestly. Arthur glanced to the other side of the board. He can take down a good chunk of the opposing force, though.

“Oh, you’re pretty good at this.” Zabini said. He’d sat up at some point, smiling in a bewildered but curious way. “What are you aiming for?”

Arthur said nothing but to direct his tiny men in a quiet voice. Soon all Zabini was doing was the same, concentrating at keeping Arthur’s meager forces back. His men were spilled across the board poorly though, having chased Merlin’s pieces lazily around earlier. Arthur had slight tactical advantage. Most of his pieces were in one place, and he was not trying to win.

“…Good game, Pendragon.” Zabini said. Arthur smirked. Merlin whistled. “You were at quite a disadvantage.”

“Sorry.” Merlin muttered. Zabini smiled at him like a snake smiles at its children.

“It takes years of practice to get good at this, Merlin.”

Merlin glanced at Arthur, but Arthur said, “It isn’t dissimilar to other things I’ve done.” Merlin’s eyes widened slightly and his lips formed a small soundless _oh_.

“That is… unfair.” Merlin said after a moment. Arthur smirked.

“It’s alright, Merlin, don’t sulk. Even I have faults, somewhere, probably.”

“I could make you a list, if you want.” Merlin said. Arthur cuffed him. “Sorry, sire. How rude. Shan’t do it again. Ow!” Merlin moved to the other side of the table before Arthur could swat him a third time. Zabini followed him with sharp, hooded eyes.

“Shall we play a proper round? I haven’t had a nice game in a while.” Zabini said. He scoffed, and Arthur thought he was going to spit on the ground in spite from the look on his face. “That woman hasn’t bothered to approve the club again. She’s brought back the Quidditch teams, though, Gryffindor just recently. You can tell, because my house has shut up about it yet.”

“What’s Quidditch?” Merlin asked.

“I haven’t explained it? Ah. No one else has?” Merlin shook his head again and Zabini nodded thoughtfully. “It’s a wizarding sport; the most popular.” Arthur perked up. Wizards do have sport, then. (Well, of course. They must.) “It’s played on brooms in the air with balls—I think you should go to a match. The school will be having one soon, since all the teams are legal again.” Zabini picked at his nails and said in a deceptively light voice, “The Gryffindor-Slytherin match promises to be quite brutal.”

Merlin nodded at him, endlessly curiously about magic. He didn’t press for more, though. “Are you and Arthur going to play again?” Zabini smiled that flat smile of his again and sat up.

“Shall we?”

“Why not.” Arthur said. He wondered how anything was played with brooms, or in the air, and how much skill it took to compete, or what it looked like at all. Zabini finished resetting the game and he pulled his mind back to focus.

It was a far more interesting game than his first attempt. Arthur found himself wishing that this was his first game, for the slight advantage he could have taken by playing dumb and setting a trap on Zabini. The pieces (and Merlin) were getting downright raucous in their excitement. The queens and one of the bishops were spitting poison at one another across the board.

The kings were trying: “I say, you poncey rag! You’d best fell yourself before my good lady gets to you!”

“Ha! I’ll have you know that my queen is a full turn further, you sad beast!”

Arthur found himself smiling faintly as he urged the little pieces into battle, and shushed his vicious bishop before Zabini’s queen broke rank and jumped on her. He wished that this was a game that he had in Camelot, though with a lot less talking. (Not that he minds the talking.) He thought that he might have had fun playing against his father, when he was young.

“Check,” Zabini said. Arthur brought his knight back to knock the castle over. This was harder than actual battle when he couldn’t move more than once a turn. “Check.” Zabini was walking him into a trap, Arthur thought. He paused before he rescued his king again; trying to find the path he was being led down.

His queen was waiting patiently, almost in check with the other king, but her move would be useless for now.

Arthur won, barely. Very barely, the board was decimated and the pieces were stuck whooping and jeering from the sidelines. The sent up a mighty cheer when Zabini’s king dropped his little crown.

“…Excellent game.” Zabini said. “I’d invite you to play in our club, but, you know.” He sneered. “Care to go again? Or are you,” he looked at Merlin. “Getting bored?”

“No, it’s fine!” Merlin said immediately. “I guess it’d be bor—I mean, it’s really interesting, and the pieces talk, so it’s fine.” Zabini made a noise that could have been a laugh. Merlin grinned.

They played three more times. Merlin wandered off to the short creatures (“They are house elves, Pendragon.”) half way through the second, but Arthur didn’t notice until the end of it. Zabini went and brought him back after the third game. They came back with house elves carrying quite a few platters of what was probably being served to the students too. (Roast something-that-looks-like-beef, roast carrots and potatoes, peas, apples, a loaf of bread and a half.)

“I brought Gobstones, too.” He said. “This one can be played with three people, if you would like.” Arthur shrugged, heaping a good deal of food onto his plate.  “After dinner, of course.”

Arthur watched Zabini out of the corner of his eye. He ate like a noble, and not much at that. A slice of meat, a scoop of everything else, and an apple, that all disappeared with startling efficiency. He waited patiently for Merlin and Arthur, making genial conversation that he timed between bites.

Gobstones was much more childish a game that chess, Arthur decided. It was very mundane, too. Zabini taught them three different ways to play with the little board, (wooden, with a round plug in the middles and bright concentric circles painted around it.) and bag of glass beads.

“The gobstones you set here,” he grabbed a handful and released them slowly onto the board so that none of them rolled outside the largest circle. “Except these.” Merlin and Arthur were given one gobstone each. “Use that to knock these out of the circle. The first to seven wins. That’s the classic version.”

Merlin, as it turns out, is a bit of a sore loser when he thinks he should be able to compete with Arthur. The first game Zabini won easily. (Horrible smelling liquid shot out at both he and Merlin, but froze in midair, Merlin’s eye glowing. “Sorry, I forgot to mention that.” “No, _really_?”)

The second, they lost to Merlin in a very close match. He crowed his achievement and forgot to guard Arthur against the stinking liquid.

“It vanishes itself in a second,” Zabini said with a screwed up face.

The third time, Merlin won again, and Arthur wasn’t sure he wasn’t cheating by accident, because he could have sworn his gobstone _turned_. He stopped the spray before it hit Arthur or Zabini. Arthur started winning after that, picking up the little things, like the direction balls fly off it when they are hit, and his aim is deadly.

“Stop _doing_ that!” Merlin said.

“Doing what?” Arthur said, leaning back, arm on the table. He drew himself up habitually, when confronted with the demand. Merlin waved his hand vaguely at him and the board.

“Being good at things you’ve never done before!”

“Sorry, can’t help it.” Arthur smirked and Merlin scowled at him. Zabini snickered, covering his mouth.

“Let me show you another way to play.” He pulls all the gobstones to him and picks a gobstone for each of them, all different colors. “You have four turns to bring your stone the closest to the Jack stone.” He places a fourth, large black stone in the middle of the board. He goes first and carefully flicks his stone towards the big black one. It rolls to a stop just inside the closest ring.

Merlin goes next and sends his stone just in the wrong direction, rolling to a stop in between the largest and second largest rings, to the left of the Jack stone.  Arthur’s stone bounces off it by accident.

The next three turns are repetitive, he thinks. He flicks his stone and to bounces off again, but stops very close. He does it again, and again.

“It one is rather boring compared to the other, isn’t it?” Arthur said. Zabini looks over.

“Would you like to try a harder version?” He gives them back their colored gobstones and puts the Jack stone away. Now, the plug in the middle of the board comes out. “Here, same rules, but you can’t fall in.”

Arthur lost very quickly. Merlin laughed too hard the first time and he had to sit out the putrid juice. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long enough to swipe it off and try to smear it on Merlin.

“I hope Professor Umbridge lets your club back soon,” Merlin said as he helped Zabini pack away all his pieces. “It was fun, thank you.”

Zabini smiled at him, a much warmer one on full lips than he had shown for most of the evening. “I doubt it. Honestly, I think she’s forgotten about the other clubs.” Merlin frowned. “It’s alright, we are meeting on the sly in the library mostly. You may join us, if you want.”

“Thank you. Arthur, do you want to?” Arthur made a show of being indecisive, and then shrugged. Merlin grinned at him, them grinned at Zabini.

“Good night, then, Merlin, Pendragon.”

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cop out chess games, I'm not terribly good at chess, and don't think it would have been convincing.


	9. Clandestine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “’M just not sure that’s a good idea, sire. They wouldn’t expect us, anyway. They’d expect older wiser kings and court warlocks . Not a stranded Prince and his manservant.”

Merlin spent the next morning in with Arthur. It was the first day since they arrived that Merlin had no duties. Arthur was awake before Merlin (Normal, really) and told him that they were going to stay in and talk.

“You don’t like talking,” Merlin said. He dressed slowly and with owlish blinks at Arthur. “You call me a girl when I want to talk.”

“I said we will talk, and we will talk. This is a more strategical sort of talk anyway. Not you tell me when I’ve _offended  _   Guinevere or Mo- people.” Arthur rolled his eyes. He was already dressed, Merlin noticed. Must have been up a while then.

“Strategical?”

“Yes,  _Mer_ lin. We are out of place here; it’s dangerous. I would like to see what we have going for us, and what we should be careful of.”

Merlin nodded slowly. When he thought about it, he would have expected this earlier. “Makes sense. Do you want to eat first?”

Merlin brought them back platters of sliced fruits and fluffy flat cakes. “Where’s my meat?” Arthur said the moment he saw it. Merlin called him several names mentally and sat down at the little table across from Arthur. He ate the fruit anyway. Merlin smirked. Arthur liked fruit, and the sort here was nicer than in Camelot. They were often much larger, brighter and sweeter. They tasted very good between bites of the cake.

“Right, Merlin.” Arthur paused. (Faltered, Merlin would guess, but he did it with that Arthur-Royal-Ponciness) “We’ll start from the beginning. Was it magic that brought us here?”

“Wouldn’t it have to be?” Merlin said. “It wasn’t me, though. I was unconscious.”

“I had noticed.” Merlin grinned at him around a peach. “You said people knew of us. Both of us.”

Merlin nodded. “Yes. It’s sort of weird, you are-were… are? You are famous with the Muggles. That is, the people without magic. I am, here.” Merlin felt his cheeks warm. “And both in a good way!”

“So everyone here knows who we are.” Arthur said. He bit down on a grape, thinking. Merlin blinked.

“No, I don’t think so. Most people don’t even know you’re here, and I sort of tried to avoid them knowing about me. The wizards think it is sort of presumptuous to have my name. I’ve been saying it’s after the bird.”

“You’re very dim, you know that, right?”

“Why!” He sat up in his chair, fingers on the edge of the table.

“If you were named after him—you, then you can’t be you, I mean—” He waved his hand. “You can’t be the person you are named for, do you get it? If you are pretending, then that would be smarter, now wouldn’t it?” Merlin said nothing. He said nothing rather sullenly.

“However, I’m not yet convinced that we should hide ourselves. There might be some benefit to announcing our presence. What is that look for?”

“’M just not sure that’s a good idea, sire. They wouldn’t expect us, anyway. They’d expect older wiser  _kings  _and _court_ _warlocks  _. Not a stranded Prince and his manservant.” They sat silent for a long time. Arthur toyed with the food, pushing pieces of strawberries next to apple slices, with strange soft yellow fruit to make some fruit chimera on his plate.

“That means we return then.” He said abruptly. Merlin, staring at the floor before, glanced up and smiled.

“I think so.” Arthur sat up a little straighter. He looked a little healthier suddenly, to Merlin’s eye, and it occurred to him that Arthur had been looking less than healthy. (He noticed dark circles now, under his eyes, and a greyish sort of pallor to him.)

“Excellent—excellent. That’s really…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Arthur cleared his throat. “How? How will we get back? Can return to a different place? I would rather not where we were.” Merlin patted his dish for a slice of fruit, but they were gone now.

“I don’t know yet.” He said very carefully. “I think I might be able to magic us back.” He wiggled his fingers on the dish, in the sign he used with Gaius and Lancelot for Magic. (Did time continue to pass at home? Were Gaius and Lancelot and Gwen and Gwaine missing him? Was Camelot in an uproar over their missing Prince and Regent?)

“Yes,  _Mer_ lin, I figured that would have to be the way.” Merlin smiled nervously and nodded.

“I don’t know how yet, though. I thought I might find something out here.”

“You’ll continue. And tell me whenever you find something.” Marlin gave him a startled  _Of course  _, and Arthur continued, “Let’s move on, then! You found out what happened to Camelot, right?”

“Sort of. Blaise, I’d asked him, said that the stories are all probably skewed. Or made up, since it was so long ago. Only the really broad details are known for certain.” Arthur nodded and waved for Merlin to continue. He leaned back in his chair, tipping it against the bed behind him. “Basically, when you became—become King, you unite all the kingdoms nearby to create Albion, which prospered, magic and all, under you.” Arthur stared. He took a deep breath and nodded.

“Right. I can do that. I was brought up to, after all. Where do you fit in?” Merlin snorted.

“I assume I keep you alive until you do. You have no idea how much trouble you throw yourself into, do you, sire?” Arthur reached back and chucked a pillow halfheartedly at Merlin. “Sorry! I mean. Blaise told me I was,” he coughed and muttered.

“Speak up, Merlin!”

“I was the most powerful wizard ever to have lived? Well, warlock, really. Actually, I don’t know the difference between wizard and warlock. Could be synonymous!”

“You’re babbling.” Arthur smirked. Merlin gave him a rather put upon look. “I really think I have come to terms with your… magicness. You are alright.” Merlin broke contact and looked down at the table. He sighed.

“Thank you, of course, my lord.” Arthur frowned. “Anyway, I can’t get us out yet, and I think I will be able to, eventually.”

“…Good enough for now.” Arthur said. “What about this place? You’ve seen a lot of it, right?”

“Actually, not really. It’s a whole castle, and I’m only going to a few rooms. Hermione was talking about a book about the castle. I can bring it to you, if you want?”

“Yes, do that. What  _do  _ you know?”

“It’s about a thousand years old. It’s always been for magic. Actually, I think it’s always been a school, too. It’s supposed to be the safest place in Britain right now. That’s what this land is called—”

“I know, Merlin.”

Merlin covered a noise with his hand. “Right, of course, sire. Um, there are seven years of schooling here, from eleven to seventeen, then you are deemed and adult and go out into the world.” He stared at the table hard, thinking. “One of the Professors is making a power play. I think it’s against our host. She is creating rules, and slowly oppressing the school.”

“Why does it matter? They are only students; why doesn’t she concentrate her efforts on the government?” Merlin shrugged.

“…Sorry.” Arthur sighed. He would look into that.

“Keep an eye on here. Those sorts of moves are a concern, no matter who she sees fit to use them against.” Merlin nodded quickly. “If you find what she’s after, tell me.” Another nod. “Anyone else you find yourself worried about?” Arthur kept his voice light and unconcerned.

“Nope. Not really. Well, sort of. One of the Professors is a sort of ghost? But I think he’s harmless. He’s sort of like Sir Geoffrey, but see-through.” Merlin waved a hand between them, like the ghost was actually there to demonstrate his non-corporeality.  “Very boring for the undead, actually.”

“I’d prefer they all were.” Arthur said. Merlin snorted. “No others? Really?”

“One has a vendetta against a student. Potter, actually. But otherwise, he was just a rather stern Professor. He reminds me of a great big bat.” He flapped his hands.

“What of the other students?” Arthur picked at his nails with his dagger. Merlin thought it was a rather terrifying habit, and would rather dirty nails. He glanced at Arthur’s not quite relaxed shoulders and the table, under which he heard Arthur’s one foot on the floor tapping softly.  Merlin smiled softly at him and, after a moment, Arthur gave him a tired smile back.

“People, sire. They are all just people.”

Monday came sluggishly through the curtains with the rising sun. Merlin sighed and pulled the pillow over his face and tried to go back to sleep. Nothing came though, and he slowly stood.

Arthur was asleep, sprawled in his blankets, with one leg sticking out. Merlin crept around for a moment, to his clothes and thinking about cleaning. (Arthur would want it clean; Merlin didn’t care as long as he knew where everything was.) Then it hit him that he could use magic to clean.

Oh, that was a nice thought. It was a thought he thought he might even be able to act on when Arthur was awake. Though he was asleep now and therefore didn’t care a whit.

Merlin grinned and his eyes glowed a warm gold in the soft dawn light. He lifted a hand to the tiny pile of Arthur’s discarded clothes and jerked his wrist. (“Oh, that reminds me,” Arthur said last night as they were getting ready for bed. “I really do require more clothing than this. You have several things.”) They shot into the air and separated. A whispered spell and they were fresh as though they were just washed. (Scentless though: no smell of soap or water or Arthur.) He flicked his fingers and they folded themselves at the foot of Arthur’s bed.

The rest of the room gave way as easily, the floor suddenly swept, then washed. The bed (Merlin’s) made itself. Arthur’s blanket tucked itself around him, though Merlin hadn’t meant to do that. The curtains readjusted themselves and the fire place started a little smolder. It didn’t need to; Merlin accidentally warmed the room up, too.

The sun was higher, streaming over the tops of the dark forest at the edge of the castle grounds and into the room. It was spotless, except for all of Merlin’s school things, which had piled themselves helpfully on his bed. He smiled at them. He sat down and put the ones he needed for the day aside and waited for it to be a little closer to breakfast.

Merlin walked briskly to the dungeons. He started out later than usual, but the seats didn’t change last class, and he didn’t think they would now. He hoped not.

“No, I really think he is,” Merlin froze at the whispered voice just around the corner from him. Without thinking about it, he took a step back and pressed himself against the wall to listen.

“I don’t know. It’s too much of a coincidence.” It was Potter talking, he realize, to Hermione.

“It does seem a little farfetched. I mean, he’s… well, him.” Ron whispered back to them. Hermione made a noise and Merlin could hear her walking. He made to back up again but it sounded like she was pacing.

“You have to look at things, Ron! Everything about him proves my theory.” Hermione said. Someone hummed and Merlin decided it must be Harry when he quietly agreed that there were certain things about ‘him’ that would normally make him feel the same.

“But it’s strange. And Voldemort just came back. Doesn’t the timing seem funny to you?” he said.

“…That actually makes sense, Harry, even if I’m not sure it’s true.”

“Hey!” Ron snorted. Merlin heard footsteps again. They were walking away down into the dungeons. Their whispers didn’t carry like their footsteps in the corridor.

“But either way, I think we should bring him,” Merlin leaned forwards.

“…Alright.”

“I can… that.” All he heard was muttering between the echoes of heels on stone.

He saw them on the Gryffindor side of the class room when he walked in. Hermione smiled at him and suddenly glanced around.

“May I talk to you after class, Merlin?” she whispered. He smiled at her.

“Of course. Good luck with class.”

“Thank you, you too.” She gave him a little pat on the arm and turn back to her desk. Merlin settled down next to Blaise, who smiled crookedly at him.

“Hello, Merlin.  It occurs to me that you’re an inside man of sorts.”

“Inside what?”

“Like a spy.” Blaise waved his hand. “So the Weasleys, you know that one right? Do you know his brothers? Fred and George.”

“Ron? Yeah, um. I don’t know them.” Blaise let out a put upon sigh. Merlin gave him a sideways grin. “Should I be worried?”

“Not yet. I don’t suppose you would…?” Merlin snickered, very quietly. Professor Snape stood up from his desk in the front of the room and waved his wand.

“Sorry, my friend.” Merlin whispered as the glowing words of the ingredients and procedures appeared on the board.

“I thought that might be your answer.” He gave Merlin a quick smile and nudged the cauldron. “Your turn,”

“Alright,” He pulled it over and Blaise moved carefully around him to put the twenty something different plants in front on him. Snape started his lecture on the potion, a draught to ‘instill confusion into even the strongest mind’. “Why?”

“I was bored of stirring.” Blaise said. He arranged the dried sprigs by type and carefully picked out the numbers they needed for the potion and set them in a new pile.

“No, I mean, why do you want me to spy?”

“Not spy. Just divulge certain information.”

“That’s spying.”

“Spying is a harsh word. No one wants to spy. People are much more willing to just repeat a little thing or two they heard.”

“Can you just tell me why?” Merlin said. He muffled a snicker as the professor walked slowly passed their table. “Or are you just going to debate words meanings all day.”

“I think I will, thank you.” Merlin covered his mouth and turned his laugh into a cough. “You’ll see, though, Merlin.”

Merlin decided that Gaius had the hardest job in the world during that class. He messed up a total of three times before their potion gave up and deflated into something they were pretty sure was tar. (“Clockwise, Merlin!” Blaise hissed, grabbing for the spoon.

“  _What’s a bloody clock  _!”)

“We should not even hand it in.” Blaise said. He looked at deflated as their potion. Merlin sighed and waved his stick over the cauldron. The sludge vanished and it sparkled. The groups around them were, mostly, steaming happily.

“Should we try again?”

Hermione caught him as he was leaving. “Oh, I’m sorry, I completely forgot.”

“It’s alright. You had a busy class it looks like.” She smiled sweetly at him and he blushed. (Her potion looked perfect when he passed to put away his ingredients, Merlin remembered.) “I just wanted to ask if I can visit you later?”

“Visit me?” She nodded. “Would you like to come to my room?”

“If it wouldn’t be a bother.”

“No! Not at all.”

“I just wanted to ask you something.” Merlin tilted his head and smiled openly. “But I can’t here.”

“You may come over then. Do you know where? It’s on the fourth floor, across from a painting of a little girl in a green gown.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Oh, thank you! I’ll walk with you to Transfiguration.”

Merlin’s days at Hogwarts were becoming habit. The charm of it hadn’t worn off, but they seemed to go quicker, and he had settled in. He was a normal fixture in school now.

Arthur had dined in the kitchens with him for lunch and dinner. Merlin happily regaled him with the spells he learned, the lost potion from class, the idea of clocks and what a match was.

“We should get a clock. I think I need one.”

“We do not  _need  _ magical artifacts.” Arthur said.

“Even time telling ones?”

He forgot completely about meeting Hermione until he ran into her on the second floor on the way up. “Oh! Hello, Merlin. Arthur.”

Arthur nodded slowly to her. Merlin grinned. “We’re just on our way up. Would you, uh, like to walk with us?”

“Walk with us  _where  _?” Arthur said. Merlin blinked at him.

“To our room, of course, sire.”

“Really. Why?”

“To talk.” Hermione said quickly. Arthur raised an eyebrow and turned to Merlin.

“If you are thinking of doing inappropriate things in there—”

“  _No  _!” Merlin and Hermione both said. Hermione’s face lit up and she looked about to hex Arthur. Merlin was blushing to his wide ears. Arthur cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, good.”

“Git.” Hermione told him.

“Excuse me?” But Hermione let out an affronted huff and refused to talk to him for the rest of the evening.

Arthur skulked around behind him, keeping a good distance away. Every time he came to close, Hermione gave him a very obvious, very dirty look. Merlin bit him lip.

“What is this?”

“The DA is a sort of extra study session.” Hermione said. “It’s for Defense against the Dark Arts.”

“Oh. Well, that class is very interesting and everything, but…”

“Ooh, I mean, it’s sort of a secret real Defense against the Dark Arts. We’d really be learning something, not reading that awful drivel.”

“Oh! That sounds good.” Hermione smiled and pulled her satchel onto her lap. She pulled out a long piece of paper that Merlin thought might be from the first night she saw him.

“I have to ask you to put your name on here. It’s an agreement to secrecy.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“You’ve got to sign anyway,” Hermione said. She pushed it over, with a jar of ink and a quill.

“I’d rather not…” Merlin said. In his experience, that was a pact. Those, with magic, tended very badly. Hermione looked about to say something, but nodded.

“Alright.” She pulled the paper back. “But I can’t bring you without this. I’m sorry.”

“I won’t tell!” Merlin said.

“I would be unfair to everyone who did sign.” Merlin sighed. He twisted in his seat.

“Alright!” She pushed the paper back immediately. Merlin pursed his lips at her. “I am going to regret signing this.” He said, and carefully wrote out his name under the other couple dozen.

“You really don’t have a last name?” Merlin glanced up and shook his head. Arthur scoffed. Hermione glared at him. “That’s alright,” she said.

“I know.” Merlin smiled at her and pushed the paper back. He felt no strangeness come over him, and sighed.

“The meeting is tomorrow evening. Go to the seventh floor and across from a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy—he’s the wizard with Trolls in,” she coughed and smiled. “Tutus.”  _Trolls and a mad wizard; got it  _. Merlin thought. He beamed at Hermione.

“I look forward to it!” She smiled back and stood up from the little table.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Merlin. Good night.”

“I will go with you.” Arthur said the next evening. Merlin raised an eyebrow as he set down the plates and sat down across from him.

“…oh?” Arthur nodded and speared a steamed carrot.

“I will. To expand my knowledge of magic. And this growing tension the sorcerers have among themselves.”

“Right. You know I had to sign a thing and everything right? You can’t just go.”

“I can and will.”

“No you can’t! I had to sign a thing.”

“Watch me,  _Mer_ lin.”

“She said it wasn’t fair to everyone who did sign to not sign!”

“I won’t be  _doing  _ anything. I’m just watching.” Arthur said. Merlin sawed at his roast and chewed petulantly. “The fruit and vegetables here are much brighter than home.” Merlin stabbed a tiny tomato. “Don’t be so sour.”

“You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“I will not.”

“You have no authority here!”

“I ought to, but you want to keep quiet.” Merlin threw his arms up and accidentally tossed his fork aside. It stopped a foot above the ground, across the room, and shot back onto Merlin’s plate. Arthur quirked an eyebrow. Merlin did not under any circumstances blush.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Merlin said, his voice low. Arthur cocked his head. “I heard them talking, Hermione and her friends. They’re worried I was sent by the evil wizard they’re fighting— Arthur it’s not funny!” Arthur waved his hand frantically and choked down his food between loud laughter.

“You—I didn’t even think you were bad when you told me to my face you are a sorcerer!”

“Warlock!” Arthur started laughing harder. “I heard them, though! Our appearance was suspiciously well timed, apparently.”

“By God, Merlin, you are really too much.” Merlin sighed and smiled crookedly.

“I live to serve, sire.” Arthur shook his head.

“If you think it will go better I will sign their agreement too. I will be going, however.” Finally, Merlin nodded. “Right then. Finish your meal before I finish it for you.” Arthur laughed in mild horror as Merlin wolfed down his food.

Merlin glanced again at Arthur as they readied themselves to leave. Arthur remained distasteful at his lack of clothing. “Let me try something of yours, Merlin.”

“You’re too big.”

“Your clothes are unfitted. Give it to me.” Merlin made a face but tossed one of the spare black school robes to Arthur. Actually, if it fit, he would go much more unnoticed. Merlin smiled.

“I might be able to do something if it doesn’t,” he wiggled his fingers at Arthur. Arthur frowned instantly, but smoothed it out and quirked a brow. He carefully pulled the robe around his shoulders, on top of a simple undershirt.

“Is it really a good idea to just… do that all the time?”

“I don’t see why not,” Merlin said and shrugged. “Uh, I’m just going to say again, for no reason, magic doesn’t corrupt any more or less than anything else.”

“Just makes you lazy, I take it?” Merlin laughed and coughed. Arthur smirked. “That explains many things.” Then he looked towards the door, adjusting the robe. It was a tight fit on him. He glanced at Merlin who was doing something with his boot.

“My Lord? You’re staring. It’s unnerving.”

“I need this wider.” Arthur said. Merlin blinked owlishly at him.

“Wider.”

“About the shoulders.” He coughed. “You really are a  _pole  _, Merlin, how do you even function?” Merlin blinked again and slowly raised a hand. Arthur watched his eye burn gold and fire and he whispered something in a low voice. Arthur swallowed and stayed very still.

The robe loosened its death grip on his shoulders and he breathed out. Merlin glanced sideways at him and went back to curling over his boot, though there was nothing left to do.

“Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur said. He buttoned the robe and pulled his own boots on. “…I’ll get used to it. Get off the floor.”

They reached the seventh floor without trouble. Arthur stared at every flight of stairs as they passed, but it seemed they were either comfortable or tired this time. He scowled.

“Sire, your face,”

“What?”

“Your, uh, face.” Merlin snickered and Arthur scowled at him instead.

“Where is it, then? We’ve gone up this far.” Merlin ignored him and looked around for a tapestry. Arthur put a heavy hand on his head and turned him to look in a different directing.

Moving threads depicted a short, bony man in a wizard’s robe. He was waving his hands at grey lumpy monstrous creatures which were dressed in pink and stomping. “That, yes?”

“Yes.” He pulled away from Arthur and looked across the hall. A door stood ajar.

The room was crowded when they slipped it. Merlin recognized them from their first night in Hogsmeade, but he didn’t think Arthur did. Harry Potter was at the front of the group, standing and talking awkwardly.

“He faced their mad wizard?” Arthur whispered. They settled in the back, Arthur leaning against the wall, and Merlin fidgeting. Harry glanced at them briefly and concluded his speech.

“Oh, I guess so.”

“He needs practice orating.”

“We’ll begin with the disarming charm,” Harry called over the whispers that had started.  There was a scoff from the crowd. Arthur quirked an eyebrow and muttered about the level of respect in this place.

The students paired up with one another until Merlin, Harry, and another boy were the only ones left. Harry gestured for the other (Neville… Longbottom, Merlin thought) to go to Merlin. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll be with me.” He said. Merlin frowned over at him. Harry nodded slowly and Neville took a step back.

“Fine. Neville, you’ll be with me.”

“Oh.”

“  _Arthur  _.” Merlin hissed. Arthur raised both eyebrows and pulled him to a free corner of the room. There was enough space for all the little groups to practice, which was odd because Merlin didn’t think the room was that big when they first came in. Arthur didn’t flinch at all the spells going by, but Merlin was pretty sure that was because he’d gone into some sort of battle mode.

“Show me the spell he’s having you do.”

“You don’t actually want to practice with me, I mean—”

“No, you’re a terrible practice partner, Merlin.” He flapped his hand at Merlin. “Show me.”

“I’ve never done it before.” Arthur made a very interesting noise and Merlin ignored him in favor of watching the other students. “This whole thing was made because we weren’t being taught the spells.”

“Well isn’t that just clever.” Merlin hummed. Arthur sat against the wall straight backed and semi-crouched. Merlin leaned on the spot next to him and focused on the group closest. He thought they might be Ron’s brothers. They were doing a variety of spells, laughing, and dancing out of each other’s way. Hermione scolded them when their spells kept hitting other groups.

“Sorry, Hermione!”

“Our gravest apologies, Hermione!” She ignored them and they went back to hexing each other.

“Most of them are saying the same thing.  _Expelliarmus_.” Arthur said.

“I’d noticed.”

“Do you just need the name of the spell?”

“Not always. There’s certain intent behind it, too.”

“You won’t get any better without practice.” Merlin hummed. “Are you scared of practicing with me? Well, I would defeat you easily.” Merlin shrugged and Arthur gave him a stony look.

“I thought I might just watch, this time. Isn’t that a nice thing? Watching?”

“It’s boring.”

“You’d rather have me casting magic at you?”

“Yes! God, this whole place is very dull for being the one thing I’ve been raised fearing.” Arthur said in a low voice. Merlin snorted.

“Are you joking?” Arthur looked up at him. “Right. Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? I mean, it makes it rather clear that magic isn’t scary.”

“Shut up and practice with me.”

“You’re unarmed.” Arthur let his head thump back against the wall. “Let’s just watch this time.”

“I didn’t take you to be so lily livered.” Merlin frowned down at him. Arthur shrugged a shoulder.

Harry came over to them a while later. “Is anything the matter?” He asked. Merlin shook his head and smiled as Arthur groaned from the floor.

“Nothing the matter. I haven’t done this spell before so I decided to watch.”

“I’ll teach you,” Harry said. Merlin glanced at Arthur. He nodded slowly and walked with Harry. Arthur didn’t stop them, but he watched with sharp eyes. “Here, the wand movement goes like this,” He demonstrated. “And the incantation is  _expelliarmus  _.”

“ _Expelliarmus_ ,” Merlin repeated. He waved his stick separately and did not cast. Harry nodded and stepped back.

“Right, cast it on me.” Merlin waved and incanted and sent out the spell. Harry did nothing and it hit him square in the chest. He stumbled slightly and the wand in his hand went shooting out towards Merlin. “Excellent! See, that isn’t so hard.”

Merlin fumbled with the wand and ran in back to Harry. “No, it’s simple. How do you stop it?”

“Shield charms, a stronger disarming spell, I think there are a few others.”

“How about not just standing there,” Arthur said.

“Actual duels are much more active and harder to hit your opponent.” Arthur nodded.

“How do normal people defend themselves?”

“Oh, there are, um, laws against using magic on Muggles.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. Harry coughed. “They run, I think.” Merlin winced but Arthur did nothing but nod.

Merlin assured Harry that he was alright with no partner. “I’ll practice the movement. Go back to Neville.” Harry finally nodded and left.

“I’ve decided.” Arthur said. Merlin sank down next to him. “Magic is boring.”

“How was that  _boring_? I knocked his wand right out of him hand!”

“He didn’t even move, _ Mer _ lin. If he had, I’m sure that would have gone differently. Perhaps even amusingly.” Merlin pouted at him.

“Git.”

“What  _is_ that word?” Merlin shrugged and grinned.

“Dunno. Hermione called you it, and it sounded good.”

“Merlin,” Merlin looked over in wide eyed innocence. Arthur cuffed him. “Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a co-Authored, converted role-play, and still has some issues. Please feel free to send me notice about any typos, tense issues or other notes!


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